The Song Remains
by Unstable Firestarter
Summary: When a young vampire meets Deacon Frost, she never thought she'd fall in love, and she never thought she'd be dragged into the conflict between Frost and Blade. Or that things would grow out of control until... Deacon/OC.
1. A First Glance

The Song Remains

By

Frost Star

Plot partly based on a dream

Feedback: Oh, yes please

E-mail: I do not own any characters from Blade, but Grace, Esthar, Chloe and Rae are mine.

Distributation: Ask me please.

Status: In progress

Notes: This story takes place sometime during the time line of the movie

* * *

**Chapter One**

Night fell on New York once more, bringing with it a deadly secret. The sun had just set, bringing Grace out of her most recent hide out where she had slept during the day. The sixteen year old had been wandering around the city for almost two months now, with no permanent home. She could still hear the haunting melody in her mind, a tune that no one else could hear, as she walked down the dark streets.

The song of the whales was always with her, always. They kept her company when she was alone. For two months now, since her turning. Sometimes she thought the whales could sense her emotions, just as she could theirs. She heard the deep, resonating 'voice' of a humpback whale and suddenly, she was no longer standing in the darkened streets of New York, but in the ocean.

A vision. Deep in the ocean, and it was dark there too. A huge, black shape was moving slowly toward her.

"Young one," the whale said. It didn't really speak, it was more like thoughts.

Grace stood in awe, waiting patiently for the whale to continue.

"Tonight, you will meet him. See death."

"What? Who? What about death?"

But the vision was fading, and she soon found herself standing in the darkened city once more. She felt a wave of dizziness, as after every vision, and leaned on a lamp post for support. People would think she was crazy if they ever knew she had visions of talking whales. But what did her vision mean? Who was 'him'? 'See death'….what did that _mean_? Could the whale have meant, 'saw death'?

Grace had seen death, that was for sure. But maybe who ever the whale was talking about was-…Wait, what was that? She thought she'd heard something. Or maybe sensed something was the more appropriate term. She looked around her, but saw nothing. Even with her enhanced hearing, everything was silent. Something about that silence sent a chill up her spine and she shivered despite the denim jacket she wore.

Grace pushed her golden blond hair out of her face and continued down the side walk, the heels of her boots clicking against the pavement. As her hazel eyes scanned the road once more, she suddenly realized that she was alone. Why was this street deserted? This was New York; a deserted street was very rare. She didn't know why, but it bothered her. Was it an omen, the street being deserted?

"Stop dwelling on it," Grace scolded herself.

She looked down at the ground as she walked, suddenly self conscious even though there was no one around. The light from the street lamps glinted off the red and gold Chinese dragons embroidered on the cuffs of her black Low-Rise, flare jeans. She had the strange feeling that she was being watched, followed even. But what could stalk a vampire without being seen of heard? Another vampire, or-

"Grace?" said a voice behind her.

The blond jumped and turned. "Esther?" Grace said in surprised as the older girl walked up to her. "What are you doing here?" stupid thing to say, didn't matter why she was here.

"It's a long story," Esther said, flipping her black hair over her shoulder, "But it's great to see you again, how are you?" She smiled, a warm friendly glow in her blue eyes.

"Yeah, ditto," Grace said, her voice sweet and shy, "I'm fine, been doing a lot of traveling all over the city though. And yet I haven't found a place to stay," she said.

"After tonight, that may change," Esther said, a gleam in her eye.

"What do you mean?" Grace asked, puzzled.

"Never mind," Esther said.

For a moment, Grace stared at her friend with a curious expression on her face.

"So, you going to the Sanctuary tonight?" Esther asked, beginning to walk down the side walk.

"The Sanctuary?" Grace wondered, walking beside Esther.

"Sanctuary's the nickname of a popular nightclub, for our kind," Esther explained.

"Oh," Grace said, nodding; a nightclub for vampires.

For a moment, the two walked in silence, neither of them noticed the dark shape in the shadows.

Grace took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Something wrong?" Esther asked, glancing sideways at Grace.

"Just what you already know," Grace said, slightly happier that Esther was concerned; it was nice to know that some one cared. "It's hard traveling all over, no where to stay. And it gets lonely too."

Esther nodded in understanding.

A moment of silence passed.

"So, we headed anywhere in particular?" Grace asked, noting that there was a building up ahead, and a band of trees opposite, part of a park maybe.

"You'll see," Esther said secretively.

"Sanctuary?" Grace guessed.

"You're just too smart," Esther said with a laugh.

Grace smiled.

"So, you ever met Frost?" Esther asked.

"Who?"

"You never heard of Deacon Frost?" Esther said with mock surprise.

Grace frowned, thinking. Deacon Frost. Why was that name familiar to her? A fuzzy memory, like a radio on too low. "No, why; a friend of yours?" the blond said.

"Kind of," Esther said with a quiet laugh.

Grace smiled, and looked up at the stars for a moment.

"You'll have to meet him sometime," Esther said, "Maybe tonight," she smiled slyly, casting a sideways glance over at Grace.

"What? Tonight?" Grace said nervously, "I'm not so s-sure."

"Why girl," Esther said, "Is something wrong?" she asked, repeating her earlier question.

"No, it's just…" Grace hesitated, "Look around-don't be obvious. You see anyone?"

Esther casually looked around, then back at Grace, "No, why?"

"I feel like…some one's watching us, followin' us," Grace said in a hushed tone.

"Grace, the street is practically deserted, there's no one around," Esther said.

"I know," Grace said, nodding, "But still…"

"Stop worrying," Esther said, putting an arm around Grace's shoulders, "Everything's fine."

"I hope you're right," Grace muttered under her breath.

Esther, of course, heard her, and glanced curiously at Grace, but didn't say anything.

The two walked along in silence for a moment. The light from the street lamps reflected off of the gold eagle embroidered on the back of Grace's jacket, making her a beacon in the night. A minute later, they reached the building, which, as Grace found out, was the Sanctuary.

"Does it have a proper name?" Grace asked as she followed Esther up the stone steps.

Esther tilted her head to the side as she thought. "You know," she said laughing, "I don't think it does."

Grace just smiled, a little confused. She could hear throbbing music coming from inside.

Esther paused just outside the door and glanced back at Grace, a smile on her face.

"Why are you so happy?" Grace asked, amused despite herself.

Esther just laughed and pulled the door open.

Grace blinked as the lights and music washed over her. The blond yelped in surprise as Esther pushed her inside. She turned to her friend, intending to appear angry, but when she saw Esther's laughing expression, she couldn't help but laugh too.

"You're too tense, you need to have some fun, loosen up," Esther said, knowing that Grace would have no trouble hearing her, even with the loud music.

Grace, still laughing; only nodded in agreement.

She stepped farther into the main room of the nightclub, blinking a few times as her eyes adjusted to the lights. Esther took Grace by the arm and led her deep into the dancing crowd. The older vampire looked around the crowd for a moment, and then waved at some one. She turned back to Grace, releasing her.

"I'll be right back," Esther said, and a moment later, she disappeared into the crowd.

"Sure," Grace said under her breath, but in a joking tone, "Just leave me here all by my lonesome."

She just stood there a moment more. But soon she felt herself begin to sway with the music. Grace felt her shyness slowly vanish as her body began to move with the beat. She danced gracefully, smoothly and everything seemed to move in slow motion. She closed her eyes for a moment, when she opened them, she noticed some one watching her, and her heart skipped a beat.

Their gazes met and for an eternity, at least, that was what it seemed like to Grace, it was probably only five seconds, she gazed into his icy blue eyes. Then everything returned to normal seed, and he, who ever he was, was lost in the crowd. Grace blinked. He was so…familiar. Almost like she'd…seen him before. Maybe she had, was it really that important? She shook her head, yet something told her it was.


	2. Meeting Deacon Frost

She snapped out of her trance like state and looked around. Grace didn't know why, but she found herself working her way through the crowd to where he had been standing, but he was gone. A cold whisper entered her mind, saying her name, and she turned, looking around again in surprise. Shaking her head, she walked toward a slightly quieter part of the club where the shadows were deeper.  
  
"Looking for some one?" Said a smooth, low voice behind her.  
  
Grace flinched in surprise and turned, her eyes widening slightly. It was him; the guy she had seen watching her. She could see now what she couldn't really from a distance; his crystal blue eyes, carefree brown hair, black designer clothes. Oh, and he was quite good looking, at least, in Grace's opinion, though she was sure a lot of other girls thought the same thing.  
  
"Um, well, kinda," Grace stuttered, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. She certainly wasn't going to say that he was who she had been looking for.  
  
"Maybe I can help," he said with a sly smile.  
  
Grace fidgeted slightly, a little nervous. Why was this guy so familiar? She almost remembered where she had seen him before, it was on the tip of her tongue.and yet.it was gonna bug the hell out of her until she figured it out. She couldn't think of anything to say, so she remained silent. He didn't seem to mind, though.  
  
"What's your name?" he asked.  
  
"Grace," Grace answered, for the first time noticing the predatory gleam in his eyes.  
  
"Grace," he repeated, "A pretty name for a pretty girl," he paused as Grace blushed, "I'm Deacon. Deacon Frost."  
  
Grace tilted her head to the side and looked at him curiously for a moment. Deacon Frost. This was who Esther had wanted her to meet. "I think I just found who I was looking for," she said, a faint smile on her face.  
  
And for a moment, no more, there was just silence between them.  
  
"Care to dance?" Deacon asked her with a devilish smile, holding out his hand.  
  
Grace smiled shyly. "I'd love to," she said without hesitating.  
  
She took his hand and allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor, the other vampires stepping aside to let them through. The two of them began to dance, and the more they talked, the more Grace liked Deacon. The hours seemed to pass by in no time at all. And by now, Grace was quite flattered by how nice Deacon was being, the compliments. Charmed, would have been the better word, and some part of her mind told her that was exactly what he had been aiming for.  
  
A moment later, Grace noticed a slight movement above her head and she looked up. She watched silently as the sprinkler heads above began to move, and it wasn't water that came out. It was blood. Human blood. Grace felt slightly sad and maybe even a little sickened, as the smile on her face faded. Without a word, she left the dance floor and slipped out the front door.  
  
She leaned against the outside wall and swallowed hard. It was things like this that reminded her of how different she was then other vampires. And it made her sad, because it meant she could never truly fit in with her own kind. What would Deacon think when-if-he found out? Just as she was thinking this, the door beside her opened and Deacon stepped out.  
  
"Somethin wrong?" he asked.  
  
"No," Grace lied, refusing to look at him, "I-I just have a headache," she paused, "I think I'll head home now."  
  
She had a feeling that he knew she was lying, but he didn't say anything about it and for that she was grateful.  
  
"Let me walk you home, at least," Deacon said.  
  
"No!" Grace said quickly, looking up. "I'll be fine," She continued more calmly, forcing a smile. She certainly didn't want him to know she lived on the streets, that she had no home.  
  
A moment of silence followed her words.  
  
"Are you coming back tomorrow?" Deacon said at last.  
  
Grace tilted her head to the side, thinking a moment. "I might," she said.  
  
"Then I'll be waiting," Deacon said with a sly smile  
  
Grace tried her hardest not to smile as she nodded and walked away. When she knew she was out of sight, a smile spread across her face. In her mind, the songs of the whales were joyful, as they seemed to share her happiness. All of the less pleasing incidents, like the blood sprinklers in the night club, seemed to have left her mind.  
  
As she walked, Grace began to hum along with the whales' songs that echoed inside her mind. What was this subconscious connection she seemed to share with Deacon? She had slowly noticed it after a while when they had been talking and dancing. It was still a mystery to her, but she had the whole of the next night to figure it out.  
  
In looking up, she noticed that the sky was beginning to lighten, meaning that dawn would soon be upon her. She had to find a place to stay during the day, and soon too, unless she wanted to know what it felt like to be a pile of ash, which she didn't. 


	3. Attacked!

The next night Grace awoke early and quickly left the abandoned factory where she had spent the day. She walked the dark streets, again having the feeling that some one was following her. But every time she looked around, she would never see anyone suspicious lurking in the shadows.  
  
Grace was glad when she neared the Sanctuary; this weird feeling was creeping her out. She walked up the stone steps and pulled open the door, welcoming the flashing lights and blaring music. Grace looked around the crowded dance floor, one part of her mind making a note of the fact that the whales sounded uneasy, like there was danger, they had since the moment she walked through the door.  
  
"Grace," said a familiar voice behind her.  
  
She turned. "Deacon," Grace said, surprised, as their gazes met.  
  
And from there on, it was a blur, a blur of memories. She remembered talking and dancing with Deacon, remembered laughing at something he said that struck her as funny, remembered blushing at the compliments. Felt.a connection of sorts grow between the two of them, something she couldn't explain.something that stirred deep down inside her.  
  
But that was when the wave of emotions hit her. It was the whales. Their normally peaceful songs had turned into moans of fear, moans that told of death, despair, tragedy. And it all came crashing down on Grace. Her legs buckled, threatening to let her fall.  
  
"Oh, god," Grace whispered, and collapsed.  
  
Deacon went to her side, but it was because of the whales' warning that Grace didn't see or hear the front door to the Sanctuary bang open. Though she had to owe it to the whales, as they had saved her life, (unlife?) and Deacon too. Because if they had not both been crouched low to the ground as they had, they too would most likely have died when the spray of silver bullets tore through the crowd of vampires, killing half of them in seconds It was a moment after that, that Grace actually heard the ringing gunfire.  
  
"What the hell," she heard Deacon say.  
  
Grace looked up; trying to see what was going on without getting trampled by the panicky, fleeing crowd. 'Jeez,' she thought, 'make them vampires and people still react the same way in a life or death situation.' And what she saw surprised her; it was.vampires.attacking their own kind.  
  
She sprang nimbly to her feet, keeping as low as possible. And was almost instantly shoved aside by running vampires. Grace grew angry as she was pushed around like a ping pong ball. She lost her balance and went down hard. But that was what saved her life-er, unlife-because that was when the second wave of bullets hit the crowd.  
  
All around her, vampires crumbled into dust and she looked around wide eyed. Fear was now replacing her anger as her mind began to race. Deacon, Esther! Were they alright? Grace looked around again quickly, trying to scramble out of the firing line so she wouldn't be the next to turn to ash.  
  
She crouched behind an over turned table, gazing around at the mayhem. Suddenly, she rolled to the side, just barely avoiding the spray of Holy water that hit the floor where she had been just moments before. Hell, these guys were really out to kill every one in this night club!  
  
Now that the crowd was thinning, it was harder to remain hidden. Grace sprang to her feet and took up a defense position, ready to defend herself. She looked up and cursed when she saw that all the attacking vampires had guns. The blonde looked around and spotted a row of couches near the wall.  
  
She took a running dive and landed behind them just as more gunfire erupted from behind her, this time coming her way. Grace yelped as the bullets tore through the fabric of the couches. 'Note to self,' she thought, quickly crawling along behind the couches, just barely managing to keep ahead of the streaming gunfire, 'furniture is not good protection from gun wielding maniacs.'  
  
The row of couches ended abruptly and Grace sprang to her feet; unsure of what to do next. She found herself standing a mere five feet from another gun wielding vampire. Though his attention was not on Grace; he was more interested in killing the remaining vampires. Or was it Deacon he was after? Either way, some one else was going to die very soon.  
  
But, to Grace's horror, she realized that Deacon hadn't noticed the second vampire because another of the 'enemy' vampires was attacking him. Grace acted without thinking, and took a flying leap at the vampire in front of her. At the last minute, the vampire saw her and whirled. He aimed the gun at her, and fired.  
  
Grace cried out as the silver bullet tore through her shoulder and she stumbled back a few steps. She barely had time to comprehend the fact that her flesh should be crumbling into ash-but wasn't-before the vampire was aiming at her again. He pulled the trigger-and nothing happened; the clip was empty.  
  
Grace heard the vampire curse as she gritted her teeth against the pain in her shoulder and lunged at him. A split second later, he swung the gun at her head and she heard the 'crack!' of the impact as she stumbled. Her head throbbed and her mind began to swim. She was dizzy, confused. The room was sliding in and out of focus, and black tinged her vision.  
  
The last thing she remembered was being thrown across the room and smashing into the wall. Her eyes closed and she slipped into unconsciousness as the rubble from the ruined night club came crashing down and buried her. 


	4. Survivor

The next evening, it began to rain lightly, stopping, and then starting again. In the rubble of the Sanctuary, something shifted. Bits of smaller debris moved, and a pale, blood streaked hand appeared. A moment later, another hand appeared as Grace struggled to pull herself from the rubble. But she was too weak. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands grabbed hers and pulled her free.  
  
"Oh, it's you," said a voice.  
  
Coughing, Grace looked up. "Rae?" she said, her voice hoarse, staring at the young black woman. "W-what are you doing here?"  
  
The older vampire narrowed her eyes as she looked down at Grace. The two had met before and hated each other. Mostly because of how different they were.  
  
Rae sighed. "I wouldn't even be here, except that Deacon told me-"  
  
"What?" Grace gasped, cutting Rae off, "Deacon? He's..alright?"  
  
Rae rolled her eyes, "Of course he is," she said.  
  
Grace swallowed hard, blinking the soot from her eyes.  
  
"Honestly, I'm surprised you're even alive," Rae muttered.  
  
Suddenly, Grace realized something. "You know where he is!" she said.  
  
Rae rolled her eyes again, "Of course I do," she said, "His apartment, silly!"  
  
Grace coughed again, soot and ash in her throat, "Could you-" she paused, cleared her throat, and tried again, "Could you tell me where?"  
  
"Why should I?" Rae said with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
Frustrated, Grace glared at the older vampire, "Look, I've almost been killed, and I'm not in a very good mood right now, so why don't you just tell me so we can both get the hell out of here," she said.  
  
Rae glared back, for a moment not saying anything. "Fine," she sighed at last, and told Grace where.  
  
A few minutes later, they both left what used to be the Sanctuary, and headed in opposite directions down the side walk. It began to rain again as Grace walked, well, limped actually, but she didn't mind; she was covered in blood and soot, what was a little rain going to hurt? After a while, it started to rain harder, washing some of the blood from her face and arms. By the time she reached the building that Rae told her Deacon lived, she was soaked to the bone and shivering.  
  
For a moment, Grace just stood and stared up at the tall building, then walked through the front doors, out of the rain. Almost immediately, she was stopped by guards.  
  
Her heart pounding, she said, "I'm Grace, I b-believe Deacon is expecting m- me." Her teeth chattered slightly.  
  
The two guards glanced at each other, obviously hesitating. She couldn't blame them though; she probably looked like a city street bum, or a drowned rat, take your pick. Anyway, at last, they confirmed what she had said and escorted her to an elevator, telling her to go to the top floor. On her way up, she grew nervous, about meeting Deacon again, and, most oddly, about her appearance. Why the latter would even occur to her, she didn't know.  
  
She shivered, wondering when she was going to reach the top floor. Why was it so cold in this elevator? Not five seconds later, there was a soft ping and the doors slid open silently. Taking a deep breath, Grace stepped out. She pushed her damp hair out of her face and looked around. She was in a large room, will big windows across one wall, and glass doors leading out to a balcony.  
  
The room had a modern look to it. And water. Lots of it. Just when she thought she'd seen enough water. The room was almost completely silent except for the gentle gurgling of the waterfall. For a moment, she just stood there, staring at the rubber ducks bobbing in the water. Ducks? She felt awkward, out of place, and swallowed hard as she shivered.  
  
"Grace?" Said a voice behind her.  
  
Her heart skipped a beat; she knew that voice. "Deacon?" she said, turning.  
  
"You're alive," he said.  
  
"You didn't think I was dead, did you?" Grace said in a teasing tone, her face serious.  
  
His expression was the only answer she needed and she smiled, shivering again despite the warmth that seemed to grow inside her.  
  
The next few moments were a blur to her whenever she tried to remember. What she did remember was talking to Deacon, feeling light headed and very, very cold. It had been obvious that he had noticed, because he had appeared concerned. Now, a few minutes after that, her mind was waking up again. She blinked, looking around. She was standing alone, in a shower. And as the hot water coursed down over her, sending goose bumps across her skin, she remembered.  
  
She closed her eyes for a moment, and sighed heavily. Then she opened her eyes again, a faint smile on her face. Standing under this hot water, she began to feel more and more alive. Parts of her that had gone numb from the cold were beginning to wake up. She didn't know how long she stayed there, washing the blood and soot from her hair and skin, but it felt like forever.  
  
When she was done, she turned off the water and peeped into the rest of the bathroom. She spotted a neatly folded towel within reach and zeroed in on it. Grace wondered briefly how it had gotten there, but at the moment it didn't seem to be very important. When she had dried off, she looked around again and noticed something that she hadn't seen when she had gotten the towel; her clothes, dry and folded on the counter right next to the door.  
  
Her heart skipped a beat when she realized that some one had been in and out of the room while she'd been in the shower with out her noticing. But the thoughts left her mind as she dresses and finished drying her hair. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the knob and opened the door. 


	5. Vision

Grace had been walking around for a few moments, lost, but not admitting it to herself, when she came upon the only room that was familiar to her. The waterfall. The large windows. Even the rubber ducks, which made her smile this time. And when she turned to Deacon, she was no longer standing in a room. No longer standing in New York. The ocean. The whales. A vision. And what she learned was very troubling. Her eyes glazed, and as she fainted, the ocean faded out into blackness...  
  
She didn't know how much time had passed when she awoke; she just remembered the vision that had caused her fainting. She knew she was lying on a bed, and she opened one eyes just enough to look around the room. Turning her head ever so slightly, she saw Deacon sitting in the chair beside the bed. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be sound asleep. She smiled faintly, knowing that later, he'd probably deny having fallen asleep. Grace blinked, pulling herself into a partial upright position. How long had she been out? She winced, one hand to her head. Jeez, did she have one killer headache.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
Grace looked over, nodding slowly, "Yeah...How long was I out." she asked softly.  
  
"Too long," Deacon said, "...What happened?"  
  
Grace looked away for a moment, hesitant. "It's crazy," she said, "Probably wouldn't believe me..."  
  
"Try me," Deacon said.  
  
She didn't say anything for a second. "Alright...I...get...visions," she paused, "And...I can hear the voices of...whales."  
  
He stared at her for a moment, then said, "Not even close to the craziest thing I've heard."  
  
She felt suddenly relieved, and managed a small smile. He believed her. Sitting up, she said, "The vision though..." she didn't finish and there was a troubled expression in her eyes.  
  
"What?" Deacon asked, curious and yet worried.  
  
Grace tilted her head to the side, "Who's..." she frowned, thinking, "Who's...Blade?"  
  
He tensed, and when he spoke, his voice was low, "He was in your vision?"  
  
"Yeah," Grace said, confused, "But who is he?" I don't understand, she added silently. She'd seen the anger in Deacon's eyes when she'd mentioned...Blade. Why?  
  
"Blade. The Daywalker," Deacon said, standing, "Vampire hunter."  
  
Suddenly, it dawned on her. The past few nights, she'd though some one was following her. Could it have been this...Blade? And if it had been, why hadn't he just...? Sitting up fully, Grace blinked.  
  
"He...hunts vampires?" she asked, still puzzled, "But why? And why is he called...the Daywalker?" she wished she wasn't so clueless.  
  
Deacon stared at her for a second, then said, "You really don't know who Blade is, do you?"  
  
Graced shook her head innocently and he almost smiled.  
  
"He's half human, half vampire," Deacon said, "His mother was killed by a vampire, and so now he hates us all."  
  
Graced blinked, unsure of what to say. The sudden uneasiness must have shown in her eyes because Deacon said, "Don't worry, you're safe here."  
  
Graced blushed slightly. The way he said it brought a smile to her lips. Pausing to think again of her vision, she realized her headache was fading. Thinking about the end, a tear came to her eyes. She prayed that this vision wouldn't come true...  
  
"What's the Temple of Eternal Night?" she asked.  
  
...But they always did. 


	6. Finding Out Why

Author Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed my story, I'm glad so many ppl like it! And a special thanks to Rinthoroniel, whose reviews are always nice. There's nothing like good reviews to keep the spirits up. I hope everyone will continue to like my story too.

* * *

The next night, Grace was sprawled on one of the couches, bored. She was waiting for Deacon, who'd vanished about ten minutes ago saying that he'd be back soon. Grace wanted to be alone now, left to her own thoughts, and had already stared Mercury out of the room. She didn't like her and at first had been jealous. She didn't like Quinn either, and only put up with them because they were 'friends' of Deacon.

She had the feeling that it was the same for them too. A moment later, who else then Quinn walked into the room. She stared at him as he sat down on the couch opposite her. And when he returned her stare, she almost laughed. She tilted her head to the side so her hair fell across her face, leaving only her eyes visible. For a few moments, that's how they remained-staring at each other. The silence becoming too much for her to handle, Grace spoke.

"Yes?" she said, forcing a smile, in an attempt to be friendly.

And for another minute, he continued to just stare at her. "Nothin'," Quinn said. But then he added, "So you're Deac's new girl."

Her false smile faltered, "What do you mean?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"You're not the first pretty young thing to 'capture' his attention," he said.

"So?" she said with a shrug, acting indifferent.

"And you won't be the last," he continued with a teasing smirk.

Annoyed, and yet worried, Grace sat up, her eyes flashing an eerie electric blue for one second. "Are you _trying_ to bother me?" she asked.

"No," Quinn said with mock seriousness, "Just telling you the truth."

"Well I don't care," Grace said, starting to stand up to leave, "I-I. He-"

"-Loves you?" he cut her off, laughing, "He doesn't love you."

Grace sat back down hard, blinking. "Liar," she whisper-shouted.

"He doesn't," he repeated, smirking as though this were a game, "He's using you-"

"No," Grace interrupted him, getting to her feet, "You're lying." She felt tears come to her eyes as she fled the room.

* * *

She hid out on the balcony, a few feet from the reflective pools of water. Alone. She sat curled up into a ball, head on her knees, not sure if she should be crying or laughing. Her decision seemed some what bent towards tears as every now and then her breath would hitch in her chest. Grace felt like it was forever that she sat there in silence before she heard the whisper of footsteps. She knew who it was at once, his familiar scent clouding her senses.

He kneeled beside her, saying softly, "Grace?"

When she didn't respond, or even acknowledge him, Deacon put a hand on her chin and gently turned her head.

Grace saw the annoyance in his expression, but when he spoke, his voice was soft. "What's wrong?"

Swallowing hard, Grace took a moment to compose herself. "Earlier, I was talking to Quinn…" she paused as he took her hands and pulled her carefully to her feet. "And…" she hesitated a second, then told him what Quinn had said to her.

"But it isn't true, right?" Grace asked anxiously, "You-"

She was stopped short when Deacon kissed her tenderly. An excited shiver ran down her spine and her legs trembled. When their lips parted, Grace was breathless, and for the first time in her life, rendered speechless. She could only gaze at him, her eyes searching his. A feeling she'd never felt before was swirling within her and the connection between them was stronger now then ever.

Deacon smiled at her reaction and said, "Still worried?"

Not trusting her voice, Grace merely shook her head, a faint smile on her face.

Looking into her eyes, he was silent for a moment. "Have you ever heard of La Magra?" he asked at last.

Surprised by the question, Grace thought hard for a minute. Why did it sound so familiar? Again she shook her head.

"La Magra, the Blood God," Deacon said, "Supposed to be a myth."

As he spoke, he led her to the edge of the balcony where she leaned against the railing and listened to him intently.

"But it's not." He paused, noticing the uncertainty in her eyes, "I know how to summon La Magra. And if it works, I'd be the ruler of the vampires. And humans. Not just controlling New York, but the whole fing world."

Grace blinked, her heart skipping a beat. What was he saying? Did he mean that…? She saw the devious gleam in his eyes as he looked out over the city.

He turned back to her. "You'd be at my side," Deacon said, leaning closer to her, "Always."

And then he kissed her again.

* * *

The next night, Grace's mind was still spinning with all that Deacon had told her. Summoning the Blood God? Controlling the world? It still made her heart flutter to think that Deacon had asked _her_ to be with him. Not really asked her. More like he _told_ her. Not that she would have said no. How could she? When the time came, what would that, like, make her? A queen? A goddess of sorts? Giggling silently, Grace shook her head. It was too confusing to think about.

But her vision was still worrying her. She hadn't told Deacon everything she had seen; she couldn't bring herself to. But after what he'd told her…she was more and more afraid. She knew now about La Magra, about the Temple of Eternal Night, about Blade. And they were all in her vision. But so was Deacon.

She wandered down the empty hallways, feeling a little sad. Thinking about her vision always made her sad now. And scared. She could hear the calming voices of the whales in her mind and smiled a little at how they could almost always manage to soothe her when she was upset.

Grace realized that she'd vanished off almost fifteen minutes ago, having told Deacon that she just needed a little time to clear her mind. Fifteen minutes she'd been away from him, and already it had been too long for her. Turning in the direction she'd come, she headed back.

Finally, she emerged from the hallways. Looking around, she spotted Deacon out on the open balcony. Weaving in between the couches and glittering pools of water, Grace walked over to him. The cool night air caressed her skin as she stepped out onto the balcony. Deacon turned to her as she came up beside him. With a mischevious grin, he took her hands and spun her around until she was dizzy.

"Deacon," she laughed, "Stop, please!"

And he did. Grace stumbled, and he put his hands on her hips to steady her. Her heart sped up, and she looked away for a second.

"What is this…connection…I feel with you?" Grace asked in a whisper.

The look in his eyes told her that he felt it too, but his expression said he knew something she didn't.

"Was wondering when you were going to ask," Deacon said, and Grace looked at him curiously. "The vampire that turned you…"

Grace had the sudden feeling that she knew what he was going to say before he actually did.

"…Is me," he said.

"Is you…" Grace echoed in a whisper. For a moment, she was silent, a bit surprised. Deacon was…? That explained the connection between them.

"But why can't I remember that night?" She asked.

'Why didn't I remember you? Why do I have these visions now? And why…why do I love you so much?' she spoke none of these questions aloud, but kept them to herself.

"I don't know," he admitted.

Grace was silent again. This was…too much for her all at once. First La Magra and Blade, now this.

"Do you want to go out?" Deacon asked her, changing the subject.

Grace blinked, her mind still racing. "That'd be cool," she said with a small smile.


	7. My Immortal

Just as Grace and Deacon were about to step into the elevator, a sharp pain lanced through her midsection, leaving her breathless. She winced, leaning against the wall for support.

"You okay?" Deacon asked.

Avoiding his gaze, Grace said softly, "I-I haven't…eaten in almost…four days."

"Why?"

Grace didn't respond right away, and when she did, she spoke in a whisper, "I couldn't hurt anyone," she paused, hesitating, "I can't even stand the sight of blood."

Tears came to her eyes and she started to cry silently, "I'm pathetic," she said, still whispering.

"No, you're not," Deacon said, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

Her vision blurred with tears, Grace looked up at him.

* * *

In the kitchen, Grace sat across from Deacon. She still wouldn't look him in the eye as she sipped blood from a cup, and he could sense her shame. But he just had to ask…

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

Grace took a deep breath before she answered. "I was…Afraid…" she spoke slowly.

"Afraid?" Deacon repeated, confused by her response.

"Afraid that you'd think I was stupid and that-" her voice dropped to a whisper, "-That you wouldn't like me any more."

He stared at her, for a moment not sure he'd heard her right. That was it? Her reason seemed so absolutely _silly_ that he laughed. Her face flushed with embarrassment, and her hazel eyes alone showed how much his reaction stung. Grace turned, starting to stand, and he suddenly realized how much he'd just hurt her.

Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "Hey, I'm sorry," he said. The first time he'd apologized to anyone.

Grace turned back to him, not really having a choice, and sat back down. She was silent, gazing at him studyingly.

He released her and leaned back in his chair. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Deacon said.

"But you think I'm stupid?" Grace asked quietly.

"No," he said, "I don't."

She managed a faint smile. "Really?" she pressed, wanting reassurance.

"I'm not going to say it again," Deacon said teasingly, "I don't think you're stupid." He almost smiled.

"You just did," Grace said with a small giggle.

How forgiving she was when she was in love. Love….It was almost a scary thought. Her parents had always told her she was too young to know what love was. But tomorrow she was going to be seventeen. Was she still too young? She didn't care if anyone told her now that she was too young. If only she didn't have this terrible dreading sense that things wouldn't last…

* * *

It was only evening when Grace awoke the next night. She didn't know what had woke her so early, but at any rate, she couldn't get back to sleep. Sitting up, she looked around the room. She reached for her denim jacket and as she pulled it on, she tried to figure out what seemed off to her. When she stepped out into the hall, it clicked. Dead silence. She wasn't used to it.

The sun was still up even. But when Grace searched around, she couldn't find anyone. Not Deacon, or Mercury, or Quinn even. She immediately began to worry. Where would everyone be before sun down? Eventually, she ran into a security guard and asked at once;

"Where is everyone?"

"They went out a little earlier, I thought you knew Miss," he replied politely.

Grace blinked. Out? Before sundown? Were they crazy, it was suicide! And he hadn't told her? Hadn't he though she would worry? Like she was…Thoughts chased each other around in her head, and her emotions exploded. First, worried, then angry…and confused. She only knew time had passed when the shutters rose, revealing the night. And that's when they returned.

A million questions demanded to be answered while Grace watched the elevator doors slide open with a soft ping. But they all seemed to die when she saw the young black woman forced out of the elevator, followed closely by Deacon, Mercury, and Quinn. Grace suddenly felt cold and numb. Oh god no! This was how her vision started! She was speechless for a moment, unable to say a word.

Suddenly finding her voice, she managed to call out, "Deacon!"

As mercury and Quinn continued on with their 'hostage', Deacon came over to her, confused by the worried expression on her face. It seemed to him as though she'd always been worried the past two days.

"Now what's wrong?" he asked, sounding tired of asking it so often now.

"Deacon," Grace repeated, "What's going on?"

And he told her how he'd found Blade's base, and kidnapped the woman, Karen, to use her as bait to lure the Daywalker.

"Blade will come," Deacon said, "He'd never think it was a trap."

"But why would you want him here?" Grace asked.

"Blade's the key. I need his blood to summon La Magra," he replied.

Her mind raced, "But what if things don't go as you want? What if…" she trailed off.

He kissed her forehead, "Stop worrying. I won't let anything happen to you," Deacon said, "How many times do I have to tell you?"

Then he turned, and walked off down the hall.

Grace stared after him. "But it's not me I'm worried about, Deacon." She whispered, her voice emotionless, yet at the same time filled with pain.


	8. La Magra

Author note: beams I'm glad you liked it. And how old I am…looks around probably one of the youngest people to receive such wonderful comments; fourteen (I started writing when I was about six). Well, here's the eighth chapter, more to come.

* * *

Grace stood, staring up at the Temple of Eternal Night as the wind whistled in her ears. She swallowed hard, thinking back to earlier that night. Blade had come, just as Deacon had said. And things had happened just like in her vision. One of the only coherent thoughts flitting through her mind was; '_Oh god, it's really coming true, isn't it?_' She didn't want to walk on, didn't want to go inside, but Deacon was at her side, leading her forward. So she had no choice.

Nobody understood why she was worried, no one knew of what she'd seen in her vision. No one would believe her…and Deacon had no fear, no worry, of what was to come that night. The Temple was beautiful, marble maybe, or some other kind of smooth off white stone. Along one of the halls, she stopped him, and in one last attempt to warn him, said;

"Please don't do this, you don't-"

"Shh," he said, placing a finger against her lips, "Everything's going to be fine. After tonight, we're going to rule the world."

And then he continued on, leaving her standing there. Grace blinked, wondering why he never listened to her worries, to her warnings. Was it just that he wasn't afraid of anything? Wasn't afraid of Blade? It that was the case, then Grace supposed she envied him for that. Snapping out of her trance, she looked around, realizing she was all alone.

A chill swept over her and she shivered. Walking forward, she wondered that if he really cared about her, would he just leave her standing here when he knew she was worried, upset? She thought back to that night, it seemed so long ago, when she had first met him. She remembered all she'd seen in him…in his eyes. He'd already surprised her by how kind…how patient…he was with her.

Why should she complain? Why should she ask for anymore? Thinking no more of it, Grace made her way in the direction Deacon vanished. She moved slowly, silently, taking her time to sort her thoughts. So by the time she caught up with Deacon, her expression determined, her eyes deep pools of emotion, the worry was gone from her face. The circular room was huge, the top of a large cylinder shaped cavern of rock.

Even though she didn't go to the edge to look down, she knew the round room far below was it; where La Magra was summoned. When she entered the room, guards were just leading Blade away, and Deacon and Quinn were talking to the woman, Karen, as if they were friends. Deacon glanced over his shoulder at Grace, giving her a sly smile. Her response was a slight nod; she knew what was going on. She'd seen it all in her vision.

So as the three of them, two vampires, one human, walked away-well, Karen wasn't too agreeable about it, but who could blame her?-Grace walked over to the edge and looked down. Waaayyy down. In the room below, The Twelve Pureblood vampires were each being forced to stand beneath one of the twelve glyphs carved into the walls. She decided to head down there, wait down there for Deacon.

She made her way over to the stone steps, and slowly walked down. The air got cooler the farther she went, and she knew the bottom of the chamber was underground. When she reached the bottom, she looked around, seeing that there were more tunnels and hallways branching off. Turning in a circle to completely look around, she saw mercury, but only glanced at her and ignored the glare she sent in her direction.

Grace had the feeling she was jealous of her. Who woulda thought, just two nights ago, _she_ was jealous of _Mercury_. A few minutes later, Deacon emerged from one of the numerous hallways. He walked over to Grace, took her hands, and twirled her around for a moment, as much for her own delight as in an attempt to cheer her up. He was rewarded with a smile. She looked so beautiful when she smiled, her whole face just absolutely lit up.

"Miss me?" Deacon whispered to her, a devious smile on his face, "I missed you."

"Did you," Grace said, for a moment forgetting her worries. She was aware that Mercury was glaring at her, but she pretended not to notice.

"Of course," he said slyly, "My golden angel."

Grace blushed deeply at his words, looking away for a moment, "I'm no angel," she protested quietly.

"After tonight, you'll be a queen," Deacon said, walking slowly around her.

She turned, watching as he headed for the center of the circular chamber. It was about to begin, she knew, and thought for one minute, maybe he was right. Maybe she was worrying all for nothing. But she wasn't so sure. Grace moved forward until she stood at the edge of the Summoning Chamber. Mercury stood beside her, and she heard Quinn come up behind them. All three of them stood in silence for a minute, waiting.

Grace was the first to turn her eyes upward, focusing her gaze on the brass orb in the stone ceiling. She could barely make out the rivets of blood running down the sides, all congealing in the middle. Only after Deacon, too looked up, did Mercury follow their gazes. A moment later, a single droplet of blood fell, and Grace blinked. In that one second her eyes were closed, it happened. It was starting.

As the Twelve Spirits-resembling gargoyles-flew through the air, Grace saw, out of the corner of her eye, Mercury run. Hide. _'Wimp,'_ was Grace's only thought on the matter before the wave of exploding energy crashed into her and knocked her to her knees. It shook the dust from the walls and ceiling, clouding the air. Grace knew it was complete, done. She coughed, scrambling to her feet. She struggled to see, but for the moment, the dust was as thick as fog.

"Deacon?" she asked, not able to see him.

"It's done, Grace," he said, and she turned in the direction of his voice.

She could barely see him as the dust began to settle. And when his eyes glowed red, she flinched, even though she had been expecting it. As he came towards her, she involuntarily took a step back. Something was different about him, she could feel it immediately. Of course. It had really worked. The dust wasn't as bad now. He stopped a foot in front of her. They were both hidden from sight of the rest of the chamber.

"Are you afraid of me?" Deacon asked her.

Grace blinked. "No," she said, shaking her head. And as she said it, all the uncertainty left her.

At that moment, the sounds of fighting echoed from the other side of the room. Grace tensed. Blade.

"Frost!" the Daywalker roared.

Deacon turned, but Grace grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Wait!" She said, "Forget Blade, can't we just get out of here?"

He looked back at her, "Why?"

Grace stood back, "Because. I never told you, but in my vision, I saw you die," she said.

"I can't die, Grace," Deacon said.

He started to walk away, but Grace had a firm grip on his arm.

Suddenly angry, he whirled around to face her. "Let. Go." He said in a low tone.

Surprised, Grace did so, and stepped back.

"Frost!" Blade shouted again. Damn he sounded angry.

Grace was silent, feeling as if she'd suddenly gone mute. Her gaze followed Deacon as he picked up the sword that was leaning against the wall, walked out to where the Daywalker could see him, and said;

"Looking for me, Blade?"

As the battle started, Grace walked around the stone formation, entering the inner circle of the room, as she watched. Her eyes were locked on Deacon though. Sparks flew from the colliding swords, but she didn't flinch, didn't even blink. She was rooted to the spot, unable to turn away, and unable to move forward to help. The fight ensued, but she didn't see Blade anymore, she only saw Deacon.

She didn't want this to continue, she knew how it would end. But time was relentless, marching forward. And it dragged her with it even though she'd fought it tooth and nail. Thoughts flew through her mind, yet none of it seemed to make sense. An ache grew in her heart as she watched him. He was so confident, fearless…so damn arrogant. He thought he was invincible. But maybe not against Blade.

More certain then maybe. Grace snapped out of her trance in time to see Blade free the vials of e.d.t.a. from the nook it'd been stuck in. She dove forward, hands outstretched, in an attempt to grab the vials before Blade. But she missed. When she hit the ground again, she cracked her shoulder against the stone, but barely noticed the pain.

She'd failed.

She scrambled to her feet, turning in time to see…Blade…kill…Deacon…Her eyes widened, and she wasn't even aware of it when she shouted, "Deacon!" her mind could not comprehend his death. It couldn't be real. Not true. She sank to her knees in shock. Her mind seemed to shut down, she just couldn't think.

"Blade!" a voice called, and Grace knew it was Karen.

Blade looked up, to the top half of the chamber where Karen was. "Let's get out of here," he said.

"What about-?"

Blade glanced at Grace, and her haunting, lost expression was enough to chill him. "Leave her," he said, and walked away.

Grace was left alone, in silence. At first, she was too shocked to cry even. She felt faint. Cold. Dead. Then the tears came. A week ago, she met some one who she truly loved. And now, he was killed on her seventeenth birthday. For a moment, she just knelt there, sobbing. She hadn't been able to save him, hadn't changed fate. This had to be a dream.

Suddenly, she started screaming. She didn't know for how long, but didn't want to stop for fear of hearing only the silence of the night. When her scream at last died away, she realized she wasn't going to wake up. It wasn't a dream. Anger swelled within her, and showed in her eyes.

"You're gonna pay, Blade," she hissed.

"You hear me!" She screamed, her voice hoarse, "I'm gonna fing kill you!"

Her voice echoed through the empty Temple, reverberating off the walls. She would make him sorry that he'd let her live. She'd make sure it was the biggest mistake of his life.

* * *

Author note: Deep breath Yes. Deacon Frost is dead. Hides behind desk Don't be mad at me, I know you Frost fans, lol! But this isn't the end, it is merely the beginning! So keep reading for lots more chapters! 


	9. Over Years And Miles

**Three years later**

In the darkness of New York City, a group of vampires entered the Temple of Eternal Night. The first one down the ladder was a young blond woman. She was petite and fragile looking. She took a few steps away from the ladder, hand protectively on a pouch at her waist, as the others came down behind her.

The blond delicately sniffed the air. Just as she remembered from three years ago. Only colder, staler from being closed up for so long. She looked around for a moment more, then turned to the others.

"I want you all to stay here," she said, "And keep on the lookout; I've got the feeling we might have company."

Then she turned away, and walked down the hallway. The pouch at her side seemed to be emitting light, and some sort of energy made her fingers tingle. Her golden blond hair fell in soft ringlets around her face, almost totally hiding the com link looped over her ear. Her dark brown eyes slowly surveyed the hallway as she walked, her footsteps silent on the soft dirt floor.

Her jeans were red, with black Chinese dragons embroidered up the legs. Her shirt was black, and she wore a denim jacket with a golden eagle on the back. She, was Grace. Three years older, three years tougher. Grace hadn't been back to the Temple since the night of La Magra's summoning. All of a sudden, the floor beneath her boots was no longer dirt, but a smooth, off white stone.

She could faintly hear the others talking among themselves through her com link. Other then that, and the sound of her own footsteps, all was silent. Grace emerged into the cylinder shaped chamber. She paused at the edge to look down, then made her way down the stairs. She reached the bottom half of the room, and as she looked around, it triggered so many memories she wanted to forget.

Taking a deep breath, she walked to the center of the room, and undid the latch of the pouch at her side. Dipping her hand inside, she pulled out a glowing, blood red orb of energy. It felt warm in her palm as she stretched out her arm. The orb hovered in midair as Grace dropped her arm to her side, and stepped back a few feet.

She began speaking in Gaelic, the old language the spell was in. Slowly, the orb changed from red, to pure white. Grace closed her eyes, still chanting. She could feel the air around her growing warm. The spell reached a crescendo, and her eyes snapped open. Her eyes…for one second, were blood red…

Suddenly, the orb exploded in beautiful brilliance. Her heart raced. For a moment, it was too bright to see anything, as the light filled the entire room. The light faded, and Deacon was standing where the orb had been. Grace found herself taking a step forward, the apprehension within her almost too much to bare.

"Grace?" Deacon said, confused. The last thing he remembered was fighting Blade. "What happened? Where's Blade?"

Grace suddenly realized she'd been holding her breath. "Deacon," she whispered, taking another step closer, "You don't remember, do you? Blade k-" her voice cracked as tears came to her eyes, "-Killed you. It's been three years."

She put her arms around him, crying silently, but now, tears of joy. He held her, but didn't share her joyous emotions.

"Grace, what the hell is going on?" Deacon asked.

Grace almost smiled. He hadn't changed a bit. She pulled back to look up at him. "I watched you die-again," she said quietly, "And now I've brought you back."

Suddenly, she heard gunfire from the other end of the com link.

"Come on love birds, we gotta fly," Reinhardt shouted.

Stepping away from Deacon, Grace cursed, then sighed. "All right, we're coming," she said.

"What. Is going. On?" Deacon repeated.

Grace hesitated, "It's a long story. But we've got to get out of here now, okay?"

He stared at her for a moment more, his gaze questioning, "Alright," he said, "But you've got a lot of fucking explaining to do."

Grace nodded, knowing she did. She turned and headed for the stairs, walking quickly. She knew Deacon was beside her, but for a moment, neither spoke. Grace took the steps easily two at a time. The noise over the com link grew louder, and she muttered under her breath, breaking into a run.

"What's wrong?" Deacon asked, keeping pace beside her.

"The vampires I came here with ran into a little trouble," Grace replied.

"What kind of trouble?"

She glanced back at him. "Vampire Nation s.w.a.t. force," she said bitterly.

Within moments, they reached the entrance hall, where the fight was just winding down to a stop. When Grace came around the corner, her eyes instantly scanned the scene. There was only one vampire soldier left, and he was slumped against the wall, stunned from a blow to the head. The Bloodpack was about to kill him too, but Grace stopped them.

"Leave him," she said, speaking mainly to Reinhardt.

Looking up at the sound of her voice, Reinhardt started to object, but then thought better of it. He looked past her, to Deacon, whom he eyed suspiciously. "It worked?" he said to Grace.

Grace waved the question away, her eyes on the dazed soldier. She kneeled beside him, her eyes suddenly hard, and said, "You tell who ever the hell your superiors are that they've failed. Deacon Frost is back. And tell them that Grace Senese isn't taking orders from them anymore."

The vampire glared at her for a second, then leaped to his feet and vanished up the ladder.

Grace stood, ignoring the questioning looks the others were giving her.

"Yes, it worked," she said to Reinhardt, as she walked back over to Deacon. "There's no time for proper introductions, but Reinhardt, this is Deacon Frost."

Her gaze flickered from one to the other as they stared at each other. "Come on then," she said at last, "Let's get out of here."

"I don't like him," Deacon said to Grace in a low tone, not taking his eyes off of Reinhardt, as if he didn't trust him.

Grace merely giggled and shook her head.

They all headed up the ladder, emerging out into the night. It was calm, and the dead silence was a little eerie. A black helicopter sat silently in the darkness. Grace was usually the one who piloted it, but now she was suddenly tired and weak. Immediately, she knew it was from the spell. It drained her energy. She started to speak, but found herself too tired and passed out. Deacon caught her in his arms, concerned, but not showing it.

Everyone else stopped too.

"She'd better be okay," Deacon said to no one in particular.

Reinhardt rolled his eyes, "She'll be fine," he said sarcastically, "Mother hen."

Annoyed, Deacon growled, "You're not the one who's been dead for three years."

"This is who Grace spent two fing years trying to resurrect?" Chupa said.

But that set Deacon off, and in a few seconds, the three of them were talking at once, cursing, arguing. And unconscious Grace was forgotten.

"Stop it!" Verlaine shouted at them in Czech, "All of you!"

Surprisingly, they did, even though Deacon didn't speak Czech.

Still talking in Czech, Verlaine continued, "Now is not the time to start arguments…you know what Grace would do."

"Speak something I can understand," Deacon said to her in the Vampire Dialect.

So Verlaine replied to him in the Vampire Dialect too, saying simply, "Think of Grace." Then she turned, and headed for the helicopter.

And since their usual pilot was unconscious, Reinhardt took the job.

They were headed for home.


	10. Edgewood Towers

She didn't look like a leader. Of a fighter. That's what Deacon thought as he watched Grace sleep. She looked so fragile and innocent. The same as she had three years ago. The helicopter landed, and Grace stirred, opening her eyes. It was suddenly quiet as the engine shut down, and they all got out. Deacon was a little surprised to see that they were on the roof of the Edgewood Towers. Grace stood beside the others as she watched Reinhardt hop down from the chopper.

"Home sweet home," he said.

Grace smiled teasingly as she looked around, "We made it in one piece?" she said, still sounding a little tired.

Reinhardt heard her comment, but pretended he didn't.

Deacon had an arm around Grace's waist to steady her, and as he looked at her questioningly, he said, "You okay now?"

"Yes," Grace said with a smile, "I'm fine, the spell only wore me out."

They all went down the stairs from the roof, to the balcony. The others continued on inside, but Grace and Deacon stopped at the balcony. For a moment, they didn't speak, and Grace leaned against the railing as she looked out over the city.

"Are you going to tell me what the hell happened now?" Deacon asked quietly.

Grace looked behind her to see where the others were, then she replied, "Three years ago, you died. I vowed revenge to kill Blade and joined the ranks of the Vampire Nation. It was really easy, you know, I'm very unique with my visions. So they gave me a job in the Ranks."

She paused for a breath, and Deacon watched her expectantly.

"It took me six months to get into an important enough position to put the plans I had in mind in motion. That's when I started the Bloodpack. It took me another half year to find the right people. It wasn't easy…" she paused again.

"…And?" Deacon prodded.

Grace took a deep breath before continuing. "Snowman was the first of the team," she smiled faintly, "Then I heard about Reinhardt and Chupa. They were in Russia at the time. But I was in for one big surprise though, because when I got there, I found out that there were three of them. Was also Chupa's friend, Priest, so imagine my surprise."

She paused once more, and Deacon watched her curiously, waiting for her to continue.

"I was glad I let Snowman come with me," Grace laughed, "I couldn't imagine going to Russia and all alone. Anyway, I only wanted Reinhardt and Chupa to join my team, but Chupa wouldn't unless I let Priest join too," she shrugged, "So I had to, anyway, why not?"

"Sounds like you didn't have much trouble," Deacon said.

"Oh, I did, believe me," Grace said seriously, "They're not easily trusting, and they thought I was a joke at first. Of course, Snowman wasn't much help convincing them."

"Why not?" he asked curiously.

She looked around again, then replied, "He doesn't speak."

"How come?"

She shrugged again, "I dunno, your guess is as good as mine. I've heard some rumors though. Anyway, I went to Prague to find Verlaine and Lighthammer. They're the only two who don't speak English, only Czech."

Deacon frowned, "If they don't speak English, how'd…?"

"I can speak it too," Grace said in Czech, then repeated it in English.

"So you're bilingual now?"

Grace smiled, "In more ways then one," she said in the Vampire Dialect, then continued in English, "The next two years I spent training the Bloodpack, and myself. I also had a side mission that my superiors didn't know about…" she fell silent.

"What?"

Looking back out over the city, Grace spoke in a whisper, "Searching for a way to bring you back. I spent two years searching, looking all over the world. Until I found a mage in Fiji who knew a few resurrection spells. He manifested the Orb of Recollection for me, and I had to use it at the last place the person I wanted to revive had been."

Deacon was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. "All that? To help me…"

"…And kill Blade, which I haven't done yet," Grace added.

He though for a moment, and something occurred to him. "Hold on," he said, "Back up a minute, if you work for the Vampire Nation, why were they after you all at the Temple of Eternal Night?"

Grace hesitated for a second, then said, "They want you dead. They didn't want me to bring you back, so they tried to stop me when they found out about my plan. But they found out too late, I was already headed for the Temple. I'm afraid they might try to kill us again."

"What could they possibly do?" Deacon said.

* * *

Vampire Nation Army Base

Council Meeting

They'd brought Blade there, formed a truce. Asked him if he'd kill Frost, again. The meeting room was dark. At the long table, only two of the high back chairs were occupied, and one of them was facing away from the door when Blade came in, hiding the occupant.

"Blade, we are all grateful you have accepted our truce proposal and have agreed to take out Frost," the Vampire High Commander said.

"What I want to know is, how the hell is he back?" Blade said, "I killed him."

"A young vampire, Grace Senese. She was a very important aspect to us, with her visions, but she went renegade just a few days ago. And took the vampires she had been training with her, the Bloodpack."

"What was she training them for?" Blade asked. He remembered Grace.

"To kill you, Blade," the High Commander said.

"To kill me…?" Blade said, "Guess she's still mad that I killed her suckhead boyfriend," he glanced at the High Commander, "No offense."

"None taken," the High Commander said briskly, a lie, "But there's one more thing. We've trained a highly skilled fighter for just a case like-"

"A vampire assassin?" Blade said, cutting him off.

"Yes," the High Commander said, annoyed, "And she will accompany you."

The last chair swiveled around.

"Blade, this is Chloe."

Chloe was a fearless assassin. Her hair was black, cut boyishly short, with chunky red streaks. Her eyes were a beautiful green, shining with confidence. Her expression was cocky, and her movements reeked of arrogance. She was pretty, but would have been beautiful if she'd lose the attitude.

She smirked, "So you're Blade, pleased to meet you," she said, feigning politeness.

"Wonderful," Blade said, instantly disliking her, "We've got a mini-Frost."

Chloe leaped to her feet, suddenly angry. She glared at Blade from across the table, snarling, "Shut your fing mouth!'

The high Commander was about to lecture Chloe, but Blade beat him to the point.

"Listen to me, vampire," Blade growled, returning Chloe's glare, "Don't cross me. And we won't have any trouble."

Chloe's eyes were dark with rage, and she knew she hated Blade. "Don't you f with me Blade," she threatened.

"Stop it Chloe!" the High Commander said, then turned to Blade, "And you, please do not provoke her, she has a short temper."

"So I see," Blade said.

Chloe sat back down, watching silently. It was a whole new game now.


	11. Rediscovering

The hot water cascaded down over Grace, relaxing her tense muscles. She closed her eyes and sighed. The whales still sang a song only she could hear, keeping her company when she had none. She put her hands on the tile wall in front of her, and leaned forward. She trembled, almost falling asleep with the hot water. Her mind began to wander, and she thought again of having told the others not to start trouble.  
  
She could trust them...couldn't she? She'd been able to trust them for the whole two years she'd known them, why not now? She knew they could be trouble sometimes, especially Reinhardt and Chupa. They were trouble even when they listened to her. Grace finished her shower and came out of the bathroom wearing white leans with flames embroidered up the cuffs, soft, simple sandals, and a familiar black shirt. She looked around, wondering where everyone was. She found Deacon in the 'Water Room'.  
  
"Where're the others?" Grace asked, walking over to him.  
  
"Out," he replied, turning, "Not soon enough for me."  
  
She sighed, almost smiling, "You'll learn to live with them."  
  
"I could live with just you," Deacon said, "Forever."  
  
Grace blushed, silent for a moment as she thought of something to say.  
  
Deacon stared at her shirt for a second, realizing it looked familiar. "Is that my shirt?"  
  
Blinking, she looked down at it, "Oh, yeah," she said, looking back up at Deacon, "You don't mind, do you?"  
  
He grinned, "Have you been wearing my shirts the whole time I was gone?"  
  
She smiled shyly, "What," she said defensively, "I like it."  
  
"I wasn't complaining," he said, moving closer to her, "I think it looks great on you."  
  
And then he started tickling her, which came as a great surprise to Grace. She started laughing, clamping her arms to her sides.  
  
"Stop!" she squealed, trying to get away.  
  
But she tripped and fell, landing on the couch instead. With a devious grin, he held her down with one hand and continued to tickle her with the other.  
  
"You are ticklish," he said.  
  
Grace was laughing so hard there were tears in her eyes, "Snop, snop!" she cried.  
  
"'Snop,'?" Deacon laughed, "D'you have your own language now?"  
  
"Stop and I'll tell you!" she laughed.  
  
He did, but still held her down in case she decided to get revenge. For the first time, he noticed a tattoo of hearts encircling her left wrist.  
  
Grace wiped the tears from her eyes, breathing hard from laughing, "I never thought you were the tickling type," she said in-between panting.  
  
"Now you know," Deacon said, wiggling his fingers teasingly.  
  
Grace was too worn from everything to laugh anymore, "Yeah," she whispered, her eyes slipping half closed.  
  
Deacon pulled her to her feet. "You sound tired, babe," he said, putting his arms around her.  
  
Grace nodded, closing her eyes, "I am," she said, her voice soft as if she were on the verge of sleep. "That spell took a lot out of me, and all the laughing didn't help..."  
  
Her voice faded away as she laid her head against his chest. He held her for a few minutes, listening to her slow, steady breathing, until he realized that she'd fallen asleep. He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, laying her down carefully on the bed. She murmured in her sleep and rolled over, hugging her knees to her chest. A protective position...he wondered what she was dreaming about. Deacon stood there a moment more, watching her sleep, then left the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
'Temple of Eternal Night,  
Grace's Nightmare  
  
She was running down one of the half lit hallways that seemed to stretch on and on forever. Her own footsteps echoed in her ears and her breath was coming in gasps.  
  
"Deacon!" she shouted, eyes locked on the figure ahead of her.  
  
But no matter how fast or long she ran, she never got any closer. She knew something bad was going to happen, she could feel it...but she couldn't reach him.  
  
"Deacon!" she cried again, her voice reverberating off the walls.  
  
She realized she was crying now, though she didn't know why. Then she saw the dark figure behind Deacon and gasped. Blade. Still running, but not making any headway, she saw the sword swinging through the air.  
  
Saw cold steel meet flesh...saw Deacon crumble and turn to dust. She screamed, just a scream, no words, as Blade disappeared and she found herself surrounded by darkness. She stopped running then, falling to her knees.  
  
"Grace."  
  
The voice filled her ears, a thousand whispers coming at her from all directions, sending a chill up her spine. She knew that voice...She wasn't alone.  
  
"Who's there?" she called, her voice sounding small and weak.  
  
"He's dead Grace," said that same harsh whisper, "He's dead."  
  
A pair of blood red eyes blinked into existence in front of her. She shivered, suddenly freezing.  
  
"W-what do you mean?" she asked.  
  
"He's gone," the voice said, no longer whispering, "Your f***ing loverboy is gone, honey."  
  
Suddenly hardly able to even sit up, she blinked. "No he's not!" she gasped out.  
  
She heard footsteps, and...Deacon was standing in front of her, red eyes glaring. She suddenly felt dizzy, what was going on? Was this a dream?  
  
"Don't look so surprised babe," It said, kneeling beside her.  
  
Something was seriously wrong. This wasn't...  
  
"You're not Deacon!" she whispered, "...No...La Magra?" she hadn't spoken that name in three years.  
  
"That's right," It said, voice suddenly becoming inhuman, and she shuddered, "Thanks to you."  
  
"To me?" she said, forcing herself to speak.  
  
"You brought me back. I spent three years in a limbo hell. Until you brought him back."  
  
She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sound of It's voice, "No...It's impossible," she managed to whisper.  
  
"Possible. We were joined when we died-"  
  
As It spoke, more red eyes appeared, staring at her, and she started screaming...screaming...'  
  
"Grace!"  
  
Some one was shaking her. Her eyes flew open and she sat up, still screaming. Suddenly, she realized she was awake, and stopped. Her gaze swept around the room and she saw the others standing near the doorway, the whole gang. Then she saw Deacon, it had been him shaking her. He looked pale...and maybe even a little frightened. Whimpering, she flung her arms around his neck and started crying.  
  
As he held her, she whispered; "It was terrible, so terrible."  
  
"What was? What happened?" Deacon asked her, his voice strained, "You were screaming...?"  
  
But she only sobbed, trembling while the others glanced at each other. When she calmed down, the others left, but Deacon remained with her for a few moments more.  
  
"It's alright now," he said softly, brushing her hair back from her tear streaked face, "You should try to get some rest." And he started to leave.  
  
"No!" Grace said in a hoarse whisper, grabbing his arm, "Please don't leave me," her heart was suddenly racing. Fear of being left alone, "Stay with me."  
  
He turned back to her, his eyes searching hers, trying to find some hint as to what had shaken her so badly.  
  
"Alright." 


	12. Blood Bond

Author Note: I'm glad you liked my newest chapter If you wanted to be Grace then, wait till you read this chapter! It makes me want to be Grace too… Is jealous oh well, I've talked enough.

* * *

When Grace opened her eyes, she realized she'd fallen asleep, but had no more dreams. And she realized that Deacon was still with her. Her eyes went to the windows and she saw that the shutters were still down…he'd stayed with her the rest of that night, and into the day… His arms were around her and her head rested against his chest. She didn't dare move at first. But she had too. When she raised her head, she saw that he was awake too.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" Grace said softly, more of a whisper.

Deacon smiled, "Yeah, but don't tell anyone," he said.

"I mean it," she said, a faint smile touching her lips.

Sitting up, she looked away for a moment, "I'm sorry I was so childish last night," she said.

Sitting beside her, he looked into her eyes and said, "Don't apologize. You weren't childish." He gently caressed her cheek.

She gazed back, uncertain, "No?" she said, tone unsure.

"No," he said, leaning closer, "I love you." And he kissed her.

"I love you too, Deacon," Grace whispered, her lips meeting his.

But suddenly she pulled away, tilting her head to the side as she eyed the closed door.

"What?" Deacon asked.

As Grace stood up, she motioned for him to be quiet. She moved silently toward the door, and listened for a moment. Then she turned the doorknob, opened the door, and stuck her head out. After looking up and down the hallway, she closed and locked the door again.

"Thought I heard some one," she explained.

And indeed she had.

Walking back over, she sat down again, thinking a moment. "Do you really mean it?" she asked quietly.

"Mean what?"

Grace looked down for a moment, "That you love me," she whispered.

Deacon blinked, "Of course," he said, "Why?"

'I-I wasn't sure you did," she said, "All that time, you told me everything…everything but those three little words."

"Grace," he said, gently pulling her into his arms, "You knew I loved you."

"I knew," she said, clinging to him, "But it's not the same as hearing you say it."

Deacon held her closer, "My beautiful golden angel," he said before kissing her.

Returning the kiss, Grace closed her eyes, an excited tingle running down her spine. He loved her, he really loved her. She'd waited over three years to hear him say that. He spun her around, laid her down on the bed, and she opened her eyes for that one moment, gazing up at him. Then he was kissing her again, trailing down her neck. He slipped his fangs into her flesh and her reaction was an inaudible gasp that was soon gone.

A few stray droplets of her blood landed silently on the sheets, vivid red against the white. She felt pain, but not at all in a bad way. A sensation unlike anything she'd felt before. Though when the seconds kept ticking by, and they remained that way, she tried to gently push him away. But Deacon growled low in his throat, refusing. Using her strength, Grace rolled over, freeing herself in the process. Now she was on top, and her hair fell around them like a golden veil.

"Naughty," she whispered, getting a devious smirk from him.

And yet she found herself with her own fangs in his neck. She forced herself to pull away after a few seconds, now understanding, perhaps, his reluctance. Unexpectedly, he pushed her to the side, reversing their positions once more. He kissed her throat, where he'd bitten her, and she shifted uneasily. Taking both her hands in one of his, he pinned them above her head. Her heart began racing, and he knew it.

"Don't you trust me?" he said to her in a whisper, looking into her eyes.

She was silent a moment, gazing back at him. "You haven't given me a reason not to," she responded. And she kissed him again.

* * *

It was night when Grace again awoke. She blinked a few times, for one second confused, then she remembered everything. It took her a few moments to realize that all the emotions she felt were not her own. For a minute, she was startled, but when she turned over and saw that Deacon's reaction was the same as hers, she relaxed a little. So she wasn't going insane. His gaze was questioning as she tried to think of what could possibly be happening. Suddenly, she thought she'd found the answer…

"Blood Bond," she whispered.

His expression told her he'd heard of it too.

"It means we're…" she paused, searching for a word.

"Linked?" Deacon said.

Grace nodded, "…Linked, in some ways."

A small smile lit up her face, "Soul mates," she whispered.


	13. Jealousy

As Grace sat on the bed, brushing her golden hair, her fingers kept wandering to the mark at her throat. She smiled faintly. Deacon was taking a shower, though she could still feel some of his emotions, even bits and pieces of his thoughts. Enough to know that he was thinking of her. And he probably knew she was thinking about him. Standing, she straightened her shirt and slipped out of the bedroom. Walking silently down the hall, her mind wandered to the others. As she neared the Water Room, she heard voices and paused for a moment, listening.

"…She's been in there all fing day…"

"…What about him, Frost?"

"I don't like him," a third voice, filled with hate, a voice she recognized to be Reinhardt, "And I don't trust him."

Grace shook her head; why were they always like this? Stepping out of the hall, she leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. She almost laughed when she realized that they didn't know she was there. But it wasn't funny. It was then Priest looked up and saw her standing there. She met his gaze and he fell silent.

"Talking about me?" Grace said in a low tone.

With an almost invisible flinch, Chupa turned. His gaze flicked from her to Reinhardt and he muttered under his breath.

"Grace," Reinhardt said, turning to her, "Feeling better now?" he smirked.

She was surprised by the way he said it; as if he almost cared. She tilted her head to the side, studying him for a moment. "Yeah, actually," she said, noticing his gaze tick to her neck.

It was impossible for her to miss the jealousy in his expression and it confused her. She heard whispers of Deacon's thoughts in her mind and she turned. Reinhardt watched Grace as her gaze fell upon Deacon. Hated the way her whole face lit up when she saw Frost…She never looked at him like that…And probably never would.

"Deacon," Grace said, a smile on her face.

"Hey baby," Deacon said, his eyes on her the whole time, as if no one else in the room existed.

His hand brushed hers, brief, but Reinhardt noted the small movement.

Deacon looked over, as if just noticing the others. "I miss anything?" he asked.

He glanced at Grace, then Reinhardt, and smirked. That's how it appeared to anyone else, but in truth, Grace had been thinking about how Reinhardt seemed jealous, and Deacon had 'heard' her thoughts. Grace started to walk across the room, but a sharp pain shot through her chest and she gasped, putting a hand over her heart. And then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

"Remember me?"

She froze. It was Deacon's voice…but yet…it wasn't him. She turned, not really hearing the chorus of mutters from the others. Deacon was standing there, but when she saw his red eyes, she knew it wasn't him. Grace's eyes widened and she gasped.

"No," She said, shaking her head. "No…it isn't possible."

She backed up until she bumped into the couch. It couldn't be! It was…just…a dream. Even though the other three didn't know what was going on, they knew it wasn't good.

"La Magra," Grace whispered.

Deacon/La Magra began to walk in her direction, and Reinhardt started towards him. Without pausing, without even looking at him, Deacon/La Magra backhanded him, sending him flying halfway across the room. Priest and Chupa glanced at Grace, wanting to do something, but unsure. Grace was transfixed by the thoughts, the emotions inside her mind. At least, the ones that weren't her own… Another stab of pain lanced through her chest, and she knew La Magra was gone…for now.

There were tears in her eyes when Deacon looked at her, his expression confused. All of a sudden, she just wanted to run, to get away. She felt that if she stood still, she would explode with al the emotions boiling inside her. So she fled, leaving the room and bolting down the hall. She knew she shouldn't run; it was childish. But she couldn't help it. In the elevator, she couldn't stop the single tear from sliding down her cheek. Suddenly angry at herself and whatever higher force was screwing with her life, she punched the wall of the elevator.

Her hand tingled, but she hit the steel again…and again. In a split second she stopped, seeing the dent in the metal and the blood on her torn hand. Dimly, she could feel the pain, but she welcomed it; it reminded her that she was alive. The elevator doors opened, and she stumbled out.

* * *

Later, she didn't know how long; her sense of time was as warped as her mind was numb. How could this be happening? She'd just got him back, and now…who the hell was toying with her life? It wasn't fair!

"Grace?" She heard a feminine voice call in Czech.

"Over here," Grace responded a few moments later in the Vampire Dialect, the only language she seemed capable of uttering at the moment.

Verlaine came around another bend in the sub-basement and saw Grace in the shadows. The younger vampire sat in the corner, leaning against the wall. Her legs were drawn up almost to her chin, and her arms rested on her knees. Her face was back in the shadow, only a few wisps of her blonde hair visible.

"Are you alright?" Verlaine asked, "I heard what happened."

Grace was silent a moment, "Yeah," She replied, still in the Vampire Dialect, "Is…?" she didn't finish.

"Everyone is fine, a little…disturbed, but fine."

"What about…" Grace paused, and spoke the last word in English, "Deacon?"

"Confused as hell," Verlaine responded.

Grace almost smiled. As she slowly stood up, stepping out of the shadows, she spoke in Czech, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Verlaine said, seeming surprised.

"For running," Grace said, walking toward her, "It's childish, I know."

"It's alright," Verlaine said, putting an arm around Grace's shoulders, "No one thinks you're childish."

Grace almost looked as though she were going to cry, but she didn't. "Really?" She said as they startled walking towards the elevator.

"I wouldn't lie to you Grace," Verlaine said seriously.

Grace smiled faintly, yet was barely aware of the action. She felt a little better.


	14. Awakening

The elevator reached the top and the doors whooshed open, allowing the two vampires to step out. Walking down the hall, Grace swore to herself that she would never run again. She reached the water room and looked around. No one was there.

"Where's…?" she started to ask where Deacon was.

Verlaine pointed out to the balcony. Grace turned. She saw Deacon standing silently at the railing, looking over the city. She walked across the room and to the balcony.

"Deacon?" she asked softly.

He didn't move at first, but after a moment, he turned. "What's happening, Grace?" he asked, eyes dark and confused.

"I-I…" Grace tried to find the words to say, "I…don't know," she said at last, trying to read his emotions.

"Don't lie to me," Deacon said, "You know what's going on. It's what you dreamed about, isn't it?" he could see it in her eyes.

Grace looked down. "Yes." She said softly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" his voice was quiet as he walked up to her. "Why?" he repeated, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"What was I supposed to say?" Grace exclaimed, raising her head to reveal the tears in her eyes, "'by the way, when I brought you back, I trapped La Magra inside of you'?"

Deacon gazed searchingly into her eyes, then pulled her to him, holding her in his arms; he could feel her distress, fear. Grace closed her eyes tightly, fighting back her tears. No, she wouldn't cry again tonight.

* * *

When dawn came, Grace fell into an uneasy sleep. She tossed and turned, Deacon on her mind always, and she moaned in her sleep as she dreamed.

'_Edgewood Towers,_

_Grace's Nightmare_

_She opened her eyes and looked around. It was dark, so dark. She pushed her golden hair out of her eyes. Was she awake? She felt like she was. She stood up, looking around for Deacon. She didn't see him, so she walked out down the hallway._

_"Deacon?" she called._

_Her voice echoed down the hall, but there was no reply._

_"Verlaine? Priest?" she said. Where was everybody?_

_She reached the water room and looked around. No one. She walked out to the balcony, looking out over the glowing city._

_"Grace?"_

_She turned at the sound of her name. It was Deacon. And yet it wasn't. "Deac?" she said, eyes widening ever so slightly._

_"You know better then that, Grace," He said, normally ice blue eyes red._

_"What is it you want, La Magra?" she asked, backing up a step._

_"Everything. Nothing. You." He said, walking slowly towards her._

_"M-me?" she said in surprise, backing up until she hit the railing. She glanced behind her, frightened by the hundred or more feet of empty air between her and the ground if she fell._

_"Yes, you," he said, not stopping until he was right in front of her, "I thought you'd be happy."_

_"Why should I be?" she said as he raised a hand to her face, fingers gentle against her cheek, "You're a monster."_

_He gazed into her eyes for a moment, and she shivered. He moved his hand to the back of her head. "So is your lover boy," he whispered in her ear._

_He tightened his grip on the back of her head, painfully tight. And then he buried his fangs in her throat. She didn't scream, but bit her lip and closed her eyes tightly. He drank her blood, draining her strength. And then he released her, letting her sink to the floor of the balcony. Dazed, she put a hand to her neck, feeling the wound. She looked up at him as he wiped her blood from his mouth. Suddenly, her skin felt like it was on fire, something was happening to her. Now, instead of feeling weak, she felt strong and powerful. But she was dead inside. Dead and fading. Fading, fading…_'

Grace sat up with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. She quickly looked around the room. No one there. She raised a hand to her face, shaking slightly. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She took a shower and got dressed, choosing blue jeans with flames rising up from the cuffs, a black halter top, and boots. As she walked for the door to the bedroom, she grabbed her jacket; she had to get out of this place, she was starting to go crazy. And the whales agreed with her.

* * *

Grace sat at the bar in Death's Kiss. Death's Kiss was a popular night spot for both vampires and humans alike. The music throbbing in her ears, she looked over at Deacon as he set his drink down.

"Dance with me?" she asked him.

He didn't say anything, but stood and took her hand. Smiling, she stood as well. Together, they walked out onto the dance floor. The song ended, and a new one started, one with a beat she liked more. She started to move with the music, leaning back into him. Deacon put his hands on her hips, and she placed her hands over his. As they danced together, she moved her hands up his arms, to around his neck. Grace laid her head back against his chest and looked up at him. He kissed her forehead and she released him, spinning around.

Her golden ringlets flew across her face, and for a moment, she couldn't see. He pulled her to him, the both of them still moving to the beat of the music. He held her against him with one hand on the small of her back while he slipped his other hand under her chin, tilting her face up. He kissed her full on the lips, taking her breath away. She closed her eyes, one hand snaking up to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his brown hair. As he pulled away, she could hear his thoughts. Naughty. He heard hers and laughed. He kissed her again, nipping her lip with his sharp teeth.

Grace opened her eyes, a smile on her face. She looked past Deacon, and the smile froze. There was a woman standing behind him, ten feet away. She was dressed from head-to-toe in black leather, and had short black hair with red streaks. She held a crossbow in her hands. A crossbow aimed at Deacon. And there was a look to kill in her eyes. She started to pull the trigger.

"Get down!" Grace yelled, throwing Deacon to the side.

The arrow flew through the air, hitting a vampire behind them. Some one screamed.

"What the hell?" Deacon exclaimed, turning.

"Well, well, well, fast reflexes, Grace," the woman said, not lowering the crossbow.

"Who the hell are you?" Grace demanded. She could feel Deacon's anger.

"Name's Chloe," the woman said with a smirk, "I have a busy agenda, so, I'll just kill your boyfriend and be done with it."

Grace's eyes widened. "I. Don't. Think so," She growled, stepping in front of Deacon.

He was surprised to feel how alarmed and defensive she was. All of a sudden, there came gunfire from their left. Grace flinched, people screamed, and Chloe ducked. A bullet still winged her arm, tearing the leather, but she hardly reacted. She turned though. Grace turned too. Reinhardt and Chupa. God, was she glad to see them.

"Now I'm mad," Chloe said, green eyes dark, "Now I'm gonna have to kick some ass."

"I'd like to see you try," Reinhardt said.

Chupa came over to Grace and Deacon. "You okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied.

"I'm okay too, thanks for asking," Deacon said sarcastically.

Chupa gave him a dirty look.

Grace elbowed him lightly. Now was not the time.

Moving suddenly, Chloe threw her crossbow to the side and reached for the guns at her hips. Grace saw this and started forward. Reinhardt knew she was going to be too late, and moved swiftly to push her out of the way and ram his gun into Chloe's stomach, knocking her back a step. Grace stumbled, but managed to keep her balance. She was surprised; Reinhardt protected her? But she saw Chloe go after him, viciously attack him, and had to do something. She charged at Chloe from the side, but Chloe whirled and kicked her hard, sending her flying back. Grace crashed head first into the wall, and as her world went black, her last thought was of Deacon.


	15. Coma

**Edgewood Towers**

Grace lay in bed, unmoving. Ever since Chloe had attacked her in Death's Kiss, she wouldn't wake up. When they'd first brought her back to the Towers, she'd been a mess; bloody, top of her skull half crushed. They'd cleaned up the blood, and the wound seemed to have mostly healed, but she wouldn't wake up.

"I'll kill the bitch for this," Deacon said quietly from where he sat next to the bed.

Reinhardt glanced down at him, but said nothing. He'd like to kill Chloe too.

'_New York,_

_Grace's coma dream_

_(memory)_

_She was at this cool dance club, a place called Frozen, even though she was too young to get in by herself. But she never went there alone. She only went there with Deacon. Her parents didn't know about any of this, of course. They'd flip if they did. She was dancing with him, still a little shy even though she'd known him almost a month and a half. She thought she liked him a lot. Liked his hypnotic ice blue eyes, his brown hair, his sly, charming smile, the way he talked to her. And yet she thought there was almost something…dark about him. So, it was then he led her off the dance floor._

"_Deacon?" she said, puzzled._

_He looked back at her. "I have a surprise for you," he said._

"_What kind of surprise?" she asked, a little suspicious, as she resisted his pull._

"_You'll see," he said mysteriously._

_But she still resisted._

_He stopped and turned back to her. They were just off to the side of the front door now._

"_What's wrong?" he asked._

"_I…dunno," she said, looking away from his intense gaze, "It's…nothing, I guess."_

_He raised his hand to the side of her face, thumb on her cheek. "I like you a lot, Grace," he said honestly, "I won't hurt you."_

_She looked up at him for a moment, then nodded, "Alright," she said, her heart fluttering._

_He smiled, leading her out the door. Parked out front was a metallic black motorcycle. _His_ motorcycle. He looked back at her again to see that she looked unsure._

"_Hey, trust me, I won't get you killed," he joked._

"_Oh, it's not that," she said, "It's just…"_

"_You've never ridden a motorcycle before?" he guessed._

"_Yeah," she said sheepishly._

"_It'll be fine," he said, pulling her on behind him, "Just hang on."_

_Some time later, they stood in an elevator together. He'd taken her to his place, but she wasn't as unsure as before. The elevator doors opened at the top floor to revel a hallway. He led her around a bend in the hall to a large room. Her eyes widened; the décor was modern, silver in color. There were pools of water with built in lights, and a large bubbling waterfall._

"_Wow…" she said softly._

"_Yeah, it's alright," he said, but was pleased none-the-less with her reaction._

"_Alright?" she repeated, looking over at him. When she saw that he was smiling, she shut her mouth, blushing a little._

"_Come on, you've got to see the view," he said, taking her by the hand and leading her across the room to the large balcony._

"_Wow," she said again, leaning her hands of the railing as she gazed out over the brightly lit city, "It's beautiful."_

"_Not as beautiful as you," he said._

_Blushing, she turned to him. As she did, a light breeze blew her golden ringlets across her face. He raised a hand and brushed her hair away. She started to ask him if he was serious, when he kissed her. Her heart fluttered and a shiver ran up her spine. _Whoa_…He broke the kiss, face inches from hers as he gazed into her eyes. His hand was lightly at the back of her head. She didn't have time for her words of surprise, because he kissed her again, deeply. Her mind was spinning, and her heart racing. This was so…unexpected…gently, she pushed him back._

"_Too fast?" he said, as if reading her mind._

_Breathless, she merely nodded._

"_Sorry," he said._

_Her heart still racing, making her feel dizzy, she turned to look out over the city again. The breeze blew her hair back over her shoulders as he stood behind her. He tilted her head to the side, and for some reason, she closed her eyes, leaning back against him. The closeness of his presence was intoxicating, to say the least, it was clouding her senses. He lowered his face to her neck, breathing in her sweet scent. He couldn't wait any longer. He sank his sharp teeth into the tender side of her neck. She flinched, started to cry out, but he quieted her by biting down just a little harder. She whimpered softly for a moment as he drank, and weakly tried to get away, but he held her arms still. He pulled away a moment later, cradling her in his arms as her eyes slipped closed._

* * *

_A night passed. Then another. Grace had turned._

_She and Deacon were headed to Frozen, walking down a dim back street. That's when she saw too familiar people walking towards them._

"_Grace?" her mother exclaimed with surprise, stopping, "Where the hell have you been? We've been worried sick!"_

"_I…" Grace started, seeming oddly unsure._

"_And who the hell are you?" her father demanded of Deacon._

_Grace glanced from him to her father, her mouth open but no sound coming out._

"_You'd better have a damn good explanation," her father said._

_Seeming frustrated, Deacon glanced at Grace, then back at her parents. "You're getting on my nerves," he growled, reaching for her father._

_Grace stepped back, barely managing to utter a horrified gasp as her eyes widened. She could only watch as he killed them, ripped her father's throat out, broke her mother's neck. She took another step back as Deacon turned to her. He saw her expression and knew almost instantly that he'd made a huge mistake. This would tear her apart, make her hate him forever. So he took the memory from her. So she wouldn't have to be haunted by it. Hoped that one day they would meet again…'_

Back in the present, Grace stirred slightly, murmuring in her sleep.

"Grace?" Deacon said softly, leaning forward.

She stirred again, and her eyes fluttered open. "Deacon?" she said, sitting up.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She didn't say anything, but stood and went over to the window. He stood as well, following her with his eyes.

After a moment, she spoke. "You killed them," she said bitterly, not moving.

"What?" Deacon said, puzzled, walking up behind her.

"You killed them," Grace repeated, her voice oddly cold.

When she turned, her eyes were dark and bottomless. She hit him across the face, causing him to stumble back a step.

"You're the reason I don't have a family!" she said angrily, launching a snap kick that caught him square in the chest and knocked him halfway across the room. There were tears in her smoldering eyes now, and her voice sounded choked, but she didn't stop.

"Grace," Deacon said after he'd gotten to his feet, reaching out for her.

She grabbed his wrist, not even paying any attention to his emotions that she could feel.

"It's your fault," she said, tears starting down her face even as she twisted his arm around, "That they're gone." She twisted his arm harder until she heard bones snap.

And this whole time, he didn't stop her, didn't fight her. Because he could feel her anger, her despair, and he knew that, some how, she'd remembered. Grace dissolved into silent tears, leaning against him for a moment. He moved to put his other arm around her, but she jerked away. It was then that the door opened.

"What the hell's-…Grace," Priest said.

"Make sure she's alright," Deacon said, wincing slightly as he moved his broken arm.

As Priest led Grace from the room, Verlaine came into the room.

"What happened?" she asked in the vampire dialect.

"Long story," Deacon said quietly. "…What can you do for broken arms?"

Grace sat out on the balcony, leaning her head against the railing. Priest stood next to her, listening when she managed to speak, and waiting patiently when she was quiet. They usually got along quite well, but he was being unusually patient with her. As she fell quiet for a moment, she remembered…that first night…when she met Deacon…

* * *

Author Note: Sorry it took me soooo long to update! I got caught up with school, and then exams, and everything. I hope this chapter didn't come out too bad though, I've been working on it for a long while. Well, till next time. 


	16. Monster

'_**New York City,**_

_**New York**_

_**About four years ago**_

_**(Grace's memory)**_

_It was a little after evening, and Grace was chasing her new golden retriever puppy down a busy sidewalk._

"_Pandora!" Grace called, watching the small dog weave around people's feet and praying that Pandy wouldn't decide to take a dive into the street._

_For a moment, a short but terrifying moment, she lost sight of Pandora as a crowd of people came off the cross walk. Then, as the crowd passed by, she saw the handsome, blue eyed stranger who held Pandora in his arms. For a second, she was so surprised, she was speechless._

"_Is she yours?" he asked, meaning Pandora, who was sitting so calm and contented in his arms that Grace was even more surprised_

"_Y-yes, she is," She said, "Thank you so much." She reached out to take Pandy from him, and when she did, her fingers brushed his. She blushed a little as she held Pandora close, making sure she couldn't escape._

"_Beautiful dog," he said, petting Pandora on the head._

"_Thank you," Grace said, shifting her grip on Pandy and looking back up at him._

"_Good luck with her," he said, starting to walk down the street._

_She turned, gazing after him for a moment. "Hey wait," she called, "What's your name?"'_

And that was how is started. She could barely remember the time before Deacon, before her turning, before the melody of the whales joined her forever. The whales were singing their songs right now, telling her that she should forgive him. A single tear ran down her face, and she raised a hand to brush it away. Her anger had faded already, but she didn't know it she was ready to forgive and forget. She loved him more then anything. Would do _anything_ for him, so why couldn't she forgive him?

She suddenly got to her feet, and Priest didn't question her when she left the balcony. She just suddenly knew she had to find Deacon. She had this terrible feeling that she was going to lose him, and she didn't know why. Grace searched for him, and found him in the same room where she'd last seen him-the bedroom. He was standing at the window, gazing out at the city.

"Deacon?" she said softly, stopping at the doorway.

He turned, and as he did, she could sharply feel his emotions; he wasn't angry at her, or at least he wasn't now. He was sorry, he knew how she felt. His arm seemed to have mostly healed, fast even for a vampire.

"Grace-" he started.

"I'm sorry," she interrupted, walking over to him, feeling like she was going to start crying again.

"Don't apologize," Deacon said.

"But I…I…you…" Grace shook her head, grateful when he put his arms around her. She rested her head against his chest and whispered, "I'm suddenly so afraid I'm going to lose you."

"You're not gonna lose me," he said, holding her tight.

Pain lanced through her chest, and she gasped. No. Not this again. Not now.

"Deacon?" she whispered, pulling back to look up at him.

"Wrong," he said, his eyes blood red.

He hit her hard across the face, sending her flying back through the open doorway to smash into the wall of the hallway. She slumped down to the ground, her head spinning and her back feeling like it was broken. She knew-hoped-that some one had to have heard that.

"You broke my fucking arm, Grace," La Magra said, walking towards her, "That wasn't too nice."

Grace shook her head a little, trying to clear it. The room was spinning.

"I should kill you for that," he said, kneeling down beside her, "But I like you, you brought me back from Hell." He slid a hand under her chin, turning her head towards him.

"And I'll send you to Hell again," she replied, her eyes focusing.

"You don't really want to do that, do you Grace?" La Magra said.

"Yes, I do," Grace replied angrily, knocking his hand away from her face, "You monster."

The thoughts and feelings she was getting from him were spinning through her mind, and her head was starting to ache.

"I'm a monster now, am I?" he said, "So are you. So is Deacon, even if he did awaken me into this world to begin with."

"_He_ is nothing like you!" Grace said, her eyes darkening. She wondered where every one was. As if in answer to her silent question, she heard a voice.

"Grace?" Priest called.

La Magra looked up then turned back to Grace. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to her feet. She started to shout out to Priest, but La Magra clamped a hand over her mouth. He pulled her into the bed room and closed the door.

"Grace?" Priest said again, closer now.

"Everything's alright," La Magra said to him through the door, sounding like normal. "She's just a little upset still."

Grace struggled, tried to say something, but she couldn't breath to speak. After a moment, she heard Priest's footsteps recede down the hallway. La Magra took his hand away from her mouth, but still held her.

"What do you want from me?" Grace asked lowly.

"Mmm, a lot of things," he purred into her ear.

She tried to pull away, but he didn't let her. "Let _go_ of me, you monster!" She demanded, struggling hard.

He was stronger then her though, a lot stronger. "Back to monster again, babe?" he said, "I can change your mind about that."

He pulled her head to the side and she struggled all the harder. She knew what he was going to do, just like in her dream. She didn't want that to happen. She felt his teeth against her neck, and suddenly she slammed her foot back against his shin.

His head snapped back and he growled. "Bitch." His anger sent a shiver down her spine.

She hated the thought of hurting him, but she managed to free an arm and ram a fist back into his face. He released her and she stumbled forward. Grace spun, expecting his retaliation, but when she faced him, his eyes were ice blue, and the ache in her head was fading.

"Deacon?" she whispered.

"Grace?" he said with a frown. He saw the bruise that was already starting on her cheek. "What happened?"

She didn't answer, but he caught a stray thought from her and knew.

"It was La Magra." He lowered his head, "I'm sorry Grace."

"It's not your fault," she said softly, going over to him and raising a hand to his face.

"But I'm a danger to you," he said.

"I don't care," she said honestly, looking up into his eyes even as she tried to ignore the ache starting in her back again. "We'll find a way to stop La Magra. I promise."

"But until then I shouldn't be around you," he insisted, knowing that he had hurt her when La Magra surfaced.

Grace shook her head, "It won't matter how far away you are when La Magra surfaces; he'll find me," she said, "And I want you with me. I don't want to be alone. The Blood Pack…they don't understand."

"Grace…" he said quietly.

"Please Deac," she whispered, "I don't care about myself, but I _will_ figure out how to stop La Magra and help you."

"But _I_ care about what happens to you," Deacon said.

"I know," Grace said, "That's why I love you." She closed her eyes and hugged him.

---------------------

Standing alone in the elevator, Grace wished that all those years ago, Blade hadn't blown up all their main records on La Magra. Now all she had was the basement archives in the Towers. Half of which was computerized, and the other half, roughly, wasn't. She also just hoped that there would be something in the archives to help her. Grace wondered if something like this had ever happened before. Standing there waiting, she shivered. She noticed the dent in the wall from the previous night.

Finally, the doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and she stepped out. It was dark, but she could see fine. She decided to check the computerized section first, and headed that way, her footsteps echoing in the vast room. She could see the bright lights up ahead from the computer section and gave a sigh or relief; it was lonely and eerie down here. She wished she'd brought her comm. link.

Grace sat down at one of the computers and turned it on. She ran both of her hands through her golden ringlets and closed her eyes for a moment. As she sat there, she realized that she had other problems besides La Magra. The Vampire Nation, Blade, and that woman-Chloe, had she said her name was? Who wanted to kill Deacon. She'd probably been hired by the Vampire Nation so they wouldn't have to get their hands dirty. Had they gotten Blade too? She hadn't seen him since that night three years ago, at the Temple of Eternal Night.

She tried to force that memory from her mind again. Blade still needed to pay for what he'd done. But right now, she thought to herself as she began typing, she needed to find out the answer to her main problem with La Magra. Because she was afraid of what would happen to Deacon if she didn't.

Yay, an update! Sorry it took so long, but I finally got through my writer's block. I'd been stuck on Grace's flashback to how she meets Deacon for a month.


	17. Break In

"Grace?" a voice said.

She jerked awake, immediately tensing. What had happened? How long had she been asleep? "What happened?" she asked, rubbing her eyes and looking around.

"It's okay, you fell asleep," Deacon said gently.

"Oh," Grace said, blinking a couple of times. She gazed at the computer, which was still on. The screen was displaying an ancient text on La Magra.

"Did you find anything?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head, "Not yet." She ran a hand through her hair.

"Why don't you get some rest, and I'll do some research," he said.

"You, research?" She said skeptically, looking over at him.

"I'd do anything for you right now, babe," he said.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Alright," she said, standing and stretching.

He put his arms around her and held her tight for a moment. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, letting his scent calm her.

"My beautiful golden angel," he said, looking down at her as he brushed her hair back from her face. Then he kissed her.

She leaned into it, putting her arms around his neck. For that one moment she felt completely safe. She broke the kiss first, resting her forehead against his. For a moment, they just gazed into each other's eyes. She let her thoughts and emotions tell him how she felt instead of saying it aloud.

"Go sleep," he said softly.

"I'll miss you," she whispered before pulling away.

She headed back through the blackness to the elevator, the lights inside almost blindingly bright when the doors opened. She stepped inside and punched a button. A moment later, the door closed and the elevator began it's ascent to the top floor. Grace slumped against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. The thoughts and feelings she sensed from Deacon swirled gently through her mind. He was worried about her, unsettled by what was going on, and also angry. At himself, and Chloe.

It seemed like forever before the doors opened again. She walked down the hall, hearing voices from the water room. She slowed down as she walked by. The Blood Pack was there, of course, but none of them noticed her except for Snowman. He looked up as she walked by, the light catching his golden, cat like eyes. She nodded slightly to him, and continued. She reached the bedroom and closed the door after herself. Sitting down on the bed, she took off her shoes and jacket, placing them on the chair. Then she switched shirts, taking off her halter top, and putting on one of Deacon's black shirts, one that he'd worn recently and smelled like him.

Grace got into bed and closed her eyes. Even with how tired she was, she had trouble getting to sleep. Thoughts of everything going on chased each other around her mind the way a dog chases its tail. She rolled over and buried her head deeper into the pillow. After many long minutes, she fell into a fitful sleep, and she dreamed…

'_Grace's Dream_

_She was on the floor of the balcony, slumped against the railing. Her skin no longer felt like it was burning, but very cold. She felt that she couldn't more her arms or legs, and so watched helplessly as La Magra knelt beside her._

"_Time for you to drink now, Grace," it said._

"_No!" she exclaimed, suddenly able to move again._

_She pushed him aside, got to her feet, and ran. She turned down the hallway, and La Magra started laughing. The evil, haunting sound echoed in her ears. She turned her head to see if he was following her, and crashed right into some one. She yelped, looking ahead again._

"_Oh! Reinhardt, thank…" she didn't finish, taking a step back in horror when she saw that his eyes were red…'_

In her sleep, Grace rolled over, moaning slightly.

---------------------------------

Chloe stood on the sidewalk opposite the Edgewood Towers, gazing up at the tall, eye catching building. She turned her gaze down to the guards standing at the doors and narrowed her eyes.

"So this is where they've been hiding out," she said aloud.

She waited for a break in the traffic, and walked across the busy street to the Towers. The guards never even had a chance to draw their weapons.

---------------------------------

The Blood Pack were relaxing in the water room when the news of an armed and dangerous intruder break in reached them.

"Shit," was Chupa's reaction.

"Where's Grace?" Verlaine asked in Czech.

"I'll get sleeping beauty," Reinhardt said, standing.

As he went down the hall, he figured who ever had broken into the Towers was either Blade, or the bitch Chloe. He hoped it was her so he could have the pleasure of killing her.

"Grace," he said, opening the door to the bedroom, "We've got company."

She was awake instantly at this. "Blade or Chloe?" she demanded, sliding out of bed and reaching for her boots.

"I'm guessing the bitch," he answered.

"Damn," Grace said, moving as quickly as she could, "Where's Deacon?"

"Still haunting the basement."

"Then he doesn't know," she said, standing now.

There wasn't any built in communication link with the basement. She reached for the pistol on the bedside table, and made sure it was loaded.

"I'll tell him, you take the others and stop Chloe," she said, moving for the door.

"You shouldn't go down alone," Reinhardt said, walking next to and a little behind her.

"I'll be fine, I doubt she knows where he is anyway," Grace replied, not looking at him as she walked briskly down the hallway, "What floor is she on?"

"Third and rising," he replied.

"Alright, you know what to do," she said, passing by the water room and stopping in front of the elevator. She hit the down button and turned back to Reinhardt. "Don't let any one get killed. That means you too," she said, showing a little concern for him too.

He nodded, and she turned to step into the elevator. She pressed the button for the basement level, and watched Reinhardt start to turn away towards the water room just before the doors closed. She stood there, tense and worried as she waited. After what seemed like forever, but was in reality only a couple of minutes, the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, with blackness to greet her. Stepping from the elevator, Grace held her pistol at the ready, just in case. The doors closed behind her, enveloping her in complete darkness.

"Deacon?" she called, her voice echoing in the vast room as she moved cautiously.

There was no response.

"Deacon?" she called again.

"Grace?" she heard him say after a moment.

She continued towards the computer section, trying to figure out where he was. She heard his footsteps, and saw him finally.

"We've got problems upstairs," she said to him, "Big problems."

"How big?" he asked, walking towards her still as he sensed her worry.

"Chloe, third floor," she replied, starting to turn back to the elevator.

Deacon growled, muttering something under his breath.

"Come on," she said to him, hitting the up button, "We've got to hit the armory first."

They both got into the elevator, and after a moment, the doors slid closed again.

"What about-?" he started to ask.

"The Blood Pack's slowing down Chloe for now," she replied.

"For now?" he repeated, "You're not gonna fight with them, are you?"

"I have to," Grace said, "They're _my_ team, and Chloe's after _you_."

"But that fucking bitch would kill you just the same," he said with a little growl.

"The Blood Pack would kill _her_ first," she said.

"Are you sure?" he countered, "Grace, I'm a fighter, I don't run and hide."

"I know," she said a bit more quietly, "And that's what killed you." She gazed up at him, watching the anger fade from his eyes as he felt her worry.

"She's not Blade," Deacon said. He _had_ to fight Chloe, had to kill the bitch for what she'd done to Grace.

"No, she's worse," Grace said as the elevator came to a stop.

They stepped out, heading down the hall to the armory. She opened the door and stepped through first. The walls were lined with different types of guns and blades. On the opposite wall, above a table, on special brackets, was a sword. As she put down her pistol and picked up her gun belt, fastening it around her hips, Deacon looked around the room, his gaze coming to fall on the sword.

"My sword…you kept it for all these years?" he said, lifting it from the brackets.

She looked back over her shoulder at him, "Of course," she said, checking to make sure her guns were loaded, and that she had extra clips. Then she took her own sword and slipped it in the loop on the belt. She turned to him, "Are you ready?" she said.

Before they left the armory, he took a gun along with his old sword.

"Reinhardt," Grace said into her Comm. link which was looped over her ear, "Is she still on the third floor?"

"Fourth!" he replied, shouting over the sound of gunfire.

"Damn," she muttered to herself, "You all playing nice?"

"Never!" he said, and she smirked just a little; things must not be too bad yet.

"She's on the fourth floor now," she said to Deacon as they reached the elevator. "I'm going to get to hate this elevator," she added, hitting the down button.

"I know what you mean," he said, standing beside her.

The doors slid open, and they got inside. She pushed the button for the fourth floor, so tense that she almost hit the wrong one; her hands were shaking.

Deacon saw this and gazed at her for a moment. "You're really worried, aren't you?" he said.

She didn't look at him, continued to gaze straight ahead, "She's out for blood Deac. The _Vampire Nation_ is out for blood. I betrayed them and they want you dead," she said, pausing for a moment. "I remember when they were training Chloe. I turned down her offer to join the Blood Pack, because she's too…dangerous. She's a lose cannon."

"And Reinhardt isn't?" he said.

She just looked at him. She twined her fingers with his. "I love you," she whispered as the doors opened to the fourth floor.

-------------------------------------------

Author Note: Thank you to everyone who has commented-nice things, lol-about my story  I'm glad people still love this story, as it gets harder to write the more complicated the plot and characters get, but it's a lot of fun. I'm going to be sad when I have to end it, but I don't plan on making that soon . And Tmntgirl, I like your idea of Blade saving Grace from La Magra, it gives me interesting little ideas 


	18. Chloe

The short, curved hallway was empty, but the sounds of gunfire and fighting were close though. Grace drew her guns and looked over at Deacon. Their eyes met for a moment, and they both nodded. They rounded the bend, and entered the fight. The large main room with its line of windows was in shambles. Chloe had seemly dodged every bullet the Blood Pack had sent at her. Ducking behind one of the large columns, Chloe poked her head around it and saw Deacon. An evil grin lit up her face.

"So the cat has come out to play," she called.

Grace motioned for the Pack to stop firing for the moment.

"Let's see how fuckin' funny you are after I rip you apart," Deacon threw back at her.

"Temper, temper," Chloe said, clicks following her words.

Grace couldn't see the assassin, but she guessed that she'd just reloaded her guns.

"Look who's fucking talking," Deacon muttered.

"I'll be glad when you're dead," Chloe said.

She stepped out from behind the column and opened fire. Grace and Deacon were the only ones mainly out in the open, so they both ducked behind columns on their side of the room. Reinhardt and Chupa both seemed fearless as they returned fire at Chloe. The more sane ones though, waited for some kind, any kind of opening. Grace stepped halfway out from behind the column and started shooting at Chloe. The other woman was actually _laughing_ as she dodged the bullets and kept up the onslaught.

Out of the corner of her eye, Grace saw Deacon start for Chloe, since the assassin's gunfire was aimed at Reinhardt and Chupa. She stepped out more from behind the column, half watching Chloe and half watching Deacon. Chloe suddenly noticed him too, and swung around to aim at him. She was fast. Grace dropped her guns, drew her sword, and raced forward, planning on using the blade to deflect the bullets while she pulled Deacon out of the way.

Grace stepped in front of him, raising her sword, but not fast enough. She ended up taking the bullets meant for him. She felt the metal slam into her stomach, her chest. She felt one tear into her shoulder, going all the way through to hit Deacon in the shoulder too. She cried out as pain erupted like fire through her body. Her sword slipping from her fingers, she fell back against Deacon, knocking him halfway down to the floor. She heard his voice echoing in her ears as he shouted her name. She heard Chloe curse as the assassin saw that her attack had not killed Deacon. Grace couldn't think, as the pain pushed all other thoughts from her mind. But she knew she'd saved Deacon, and so her pain was alright. She felt Deacon drag her behind one of the columns even as the war between Chloe and the Pack continued.

"Grace! Grace, can you hear me?" Deacon said.

She looked up at him, her vision swimming, and struggled to focus. She could see that he was hurt, blood dripping from his shoulder, and some hoe that seemed more important then her own wounds.

"I can hear you," she replied hollowly, and fire lanced through her chest. She winced, not wanting to look at her wounds.

"Grace?" he started, and she was scared to hear the actual panic in his voice.

She suddenly coughed, igniting more pain in her chest, and felt something warm slid over her chin. Numbly, she raised a hand to her face, and saw that it was blood.

"Fuck," Deacon said.

Parts of the column just above them exploded from gunfire, raining chunks of plaster and dust down on them. He tried to shield her from it, but she was sure they both looked like ghosts now anyway. He knelt beside her, waiting for a break in the onslaught from Chloe, when Reinhardt moved closer to them.

"Get her the fuck out of here!" he shouted, renewing his attack on Chloe.

Deacon barely gave a sign that he acknowledged him, and lifted Grace in his arms. Holding her close to him, he dashed across the room to the mini hallway that led to the elevator; a string of bullets followed a few steps behind him. As he stood there waiting for the doors to open, he Gazed down at Grace, who was as light as a feather in his arms. Finally the doors opened and he stepped in. He pushed a button and set Grace down, kneeling beside her.

"Deacon Frost!" Chloe thundered, sounding furious.

He raised his head, seeing the assassin only yards away. Both guns aimed at them. She opened fire, and he pulled Grace over with him to the side. The doors started to close, but bullets still slammed into the opposite wall. He ducked as low as possible, keeping against the wall with Grace. The doors closed, and the elevator began to ascend.

"Deac?" Grace whispered, even that little bit of movement sending nails of pain through her chest.

He gazed down at her as she looked up at him. She was nearly white, and blood had soaked through her cloths from the multiple bullet wounds in her stomach and chest. Her blood was all over him too, soaking into his pants, on his shirt, his hands. She tried to continue, but she didn't have the energy. The edges of her vision were turning black.

"Grace? You have to stay awake. Grace?" Deacon said, seeing that her eyes were starting to slip closed.

'I want to,' she tried to say, but couldn't. She realized that she must be dying. And she also realized that it didn't scare her.

"Grace?" he said again.

He knew she was dying, and not from the wounds, but that she was going to bleed to death. He had to keep her awake, had to save her. He slapped her face lightly, and she stirred a little. He bit into his wrist til it bled freely, and held it to her mouth. She stirred again, but her eyes remained closed. After a moment, she began to suck on the wound. He moved her hair back from her face with his other hand, hoping that his blood would giver her some of her strength back so that she could continue to cling to life.

He didn't know if she could hear him or not, but he whispered, "I can't lose you."

----------------------------------

Grace slipped in and out of consciousness for the next three days, always in pain when she awoke. At times, it seemed she wasn't going to make it, and every one was on edge. They had managed to fight off Chloe that day, and security had been tightened to the max. La Magra hadn't resurfaced, and if it hadn't been for Grace's critical condition, things would have been calm. She should have recovered by now, but the bullets had been silver, so she really should have been dead. But she wasn't. Besides the silver bullets, she'd lost a lot of blood, and without blood, vampires die. The day she'd been shot, in the elevator, when Deacon had given her his blood, had saved her life.

On the third night, she woke with a start from a troubling dream that she couldn't remember the moment her eyes opened. Her vision cleared, and she lay there, gazing up at the ceiling. Her mind was still swimming, but after a short while, she remembered with a jolt what had happened. Instinctively, she moved a hand to her stomach and chest where she'd been shot, and felt instead bandages. She realized that the Tower seemed quiet, and was at once filled with panic. Was everyone ok? Was Deacon ok? She could still feel his thoughts and emotions, and so was a little relieved.

'Deacon?' she said silently, wondering if he could hear her thoughts calling out to him.

He must not have been very far away, because a moment later, the door opened and he walked in. "Grace!" he said, kneeling beside the bed, "How are you?"

He looked about as tired and weary as she still felt.

"I…don't know really," she said quietly, pin pricks of pain running through her chest with every word.

"I've been worried about you," he said, brushing her hair back from her face. She was pale, but not nearly as pale as she had been.

She caught his arm lightly as he lowered it. She gazed at the bite wounds on his wrist. A couple were recent, about within a day, the other couple had almost faded. She looked at him questioningly. He gently pulled his arm from her grip before saying anything.

"It was the only thing that helped," he said.

Now she understood. That's why he looked so tired. "I see," Grace said, not yet trying to sit up.

"That was crazy, what you did," he said after a moment.

"She would've killed you," she responded, "I couldn't let her."

He gazed at her for a moment. "You'd really die for me?" he said quietly.

"Yes," she whispered, gazing into his eyes as she raised a hand to his face, running her fingers through his brown hair, "Yes I would."


	19. Snow

Grace lay diagonally across the bed, with her head in Deacon's lap as he sat there and stroked her hair. She was still sore, but she would live.

"I can't believe all this…everything that has happened," she said softly, "Everything used to be so simple. It would still be if it weren't for the damned Vampire Nation."

"Why _do_ they want me dead?" he asked.

She looked up at him, "They never wanted you to awaken La Magra in the first place. They don't _want_ you to rule. They like their subtle balance with the humans," she said, "They actually _thanked_ Blade after he…"

"Fuck Blade," Deacon said in a forced calm tone, "Has anyone been trying to kill _him_ yet?"

"Well…The Blood Pack's been kind of pre-occupied with Chloe," she said.

"Then we'll kill that bitch and _then_ we'll kill Blade," he said.

"If only it were that easy," Grace sighed.

"Nothing's ever easy."

"I've noticed."

She turned her gaze to the window, looking out at the city lights, so beautiful at night, like thousands of fireflies. It was then she noticed the white flakes floating past the glass. Wait, was that-? She sat up, wincing a little, and stood to go over to the window.

"Grace?" he asked, puzzled.

A smile crossed her face as she gazed out the window. "It's _snowing_, Deac," she said, turning back to him for a second to beckon him over, "How could I forget it's almost Christmas?"

He got up as well and joined her at the window.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered.

"It is," he agreed, "But not as beautiful as you."

"Oh, stop it," she said with a smile.

"I'm serious," he said.

"I know you are," she said.

She continued to watch the snow falling outside with rapt attention. Thoughts and ideas were forming in her mind and she turned to Deacon.

"Have you been ice skating before?" she asked him.

"Of course," he replied.

"At Rockefeller Center, around Christmas?" she persisted.

"No…not in years," he answered, puzzled as to what her point was.

"Well, come on," she said shrugging into her jacket, knowing it would be enough since the cold didn't bother them as much. She reached for her boots.

"What? Grace, you can't go out, not after what just happened, what about Chloe?" Deacon said.

"She wouldn't attack again so soon, she knows we'd be expecting her," she said.

"How can you sound so sure?" he asked her.

"Come on Deacon; this is a once a year opportunity, we'll be alright," Grace said, "Besides, if I don't get out of here, I'm going to go crazy."

"That's what you said last time," he pointed out, remembering the incident at the night club.

She looked away for a moment, down at the floor. "This won't be like last time," she said softly, "I have a good feeling about this." The whales, her always friends, agreed with her.

"You do?" he said, walking over to her.

"Psychic, remember?" she said, managing a small smile.

"Well…alright," he relented, kissing her on the forehead.

-------------------------------

Other ice skaters passed them around the large, frozen rink as Grace skated backwards with fluid ease, holding Deacon's hands in hers. The huge, towering Christmas tree was lit, casting the entire area in a warm glow and reflecting in her golden brown eyes as she smiled.

"I thought you said you skated before," she teased lightly.

"Not in years!" he replied.

"You know it's not that hard then, come on!" she said.

He mumbled something she didn't catch, and she giggled.

He lifted his head again from looking down at the ice, and gazed into her eyes, reflections of lights dancing in his own. He skated up to her, placing her hands on his shoulders, and put his on her waist. He spun her around so that he was leading them and they glided across the ice, perfectly in sync with each other, like they were dancing. She gazed back into his eyes, her own a little surprised. Everyone else faded from her world and it was just the two of them, the cold air turning her cheeks a little pink.

"Liar," she whispered, "You made me believe you couldn't skate."

"Figured I'd surprise you," Deacon replied with a smile.

"That, you definitely did," she said, leaning forward to kiss him.

It was because of this distraction that neither of them were paying attention to their surroundings for a moment, and suddenly they were falling, Deacon landing on his back in the snow, she on top of him. She laughed when he yelped a little.

"Is it cold?" she asked.

"Do you want to find out?" he replied mischievously.

"No, I'm good," she said quickly, still smiling.

He pulled her closer for a soft kiss.

"People are starting to stare," she whispered when she'd pulled away.

"Let them; I don't care," he said.

"But _I _do," she said, and started to get to her feet, slipping a little.

He stood beside her, steadying her. They were both in the snow, gazing up at the giant Christmas tree when it began to snow again, catching in their hair. Neither of them minded, nor were they bothered by the cold that tried to freeze their fingers and was beginning to turn their lips faint shades of blue. He stepped back onto the ice, pulling her gently with him, and they resumed skating.

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A/N: Yes, this scene will be continued in the next chapter, I just couldn't think of how to continue it right at the moment. Sorry it took so long for an update, I've been really wrapped up in school-which is over for now, yay summer-and writing my new Final Fantasy fic _Catalyst_. Plus, we've been doing a lot of painting and stuff around the house. I know, excuses excuses excuses, lol. Well, I hope you all like this chapter.


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